


The gift that keeps on giving (or not)

by MyOwnSoldier



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, De-Aged Stiles Stilinski, Derek Uses His Words, F/M, Good Peter, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, NaNo 19, Steter - Freeform, Stilinski Family Feels, Therapy, Werewolves, first fic, kid stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:27:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 53,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21705961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyOwnSoldier/pseuds/MyOwnSoldier
Summary: “Look, I just don’t think you should get involved in this, Stiles.”“What.”“No, look. Hear me out, please.”, Scott mumbled, before starting to talk again. “The last few weeks, you just … I don’t know, man. You really seem a bit out of it. I talked to Derek and he’s worried about you too, but we kind of have different opinions about how to deal with it.”Stiles was fuming. His shaking hands were making it hard to keep the phone at his ear and taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes.“Scott. I am fine. Yes, I am struggling a bit with the whole living alone for the first-time thing, I am not used to it. Leaving me out of the loop? Dick move, Scotty. Dick move.”It was one thing to know that someone worried about him (he wasn’t sure if he felt warm about that, or guilty) and another one when someone tried to take away his choice of action.“I’ll come by after work tomorrow and help figure out this symbol. Because let’s face it, Scott. Between you and me, I have a better chance of understanding what the fuck this thing means. Good night.”Wonderful header made by Faladrast -> https://archiveofourown.org/works/22186921
Relationships: Allison Argent/Isaac Lahey/Scott McCall, Braeden/Derek Hale, Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes
Comments: 112
Kudos: 616





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey :)  
> This is the first story I wrote in the last few years. It's Steter, de-aged Stiles, including slight Daddy!Kink and a whole lot of feels.

With a soft sigh, Stiles pulled his keys out of his pocket and stared at the door to his apartment. Living alone sure had its benefits, but the loneliness that was the only thing greeting him, when he came home from a long day at work took its toll too. Sure, when he was still living with his dad, he also had spent most of the time alone, but the familiarity and safety of his childhood home really feeling like a home made it easier – and the fact that he had someone he could take care of helped to, be it with a readymade dinner or freshly washed clothes on his fathers bed. 

Stiles only felt comfortable when he had someone he could take care of and the first few weeks he had regularly invaded Scotts, Allison’s and Isaac’s place or the packhouse. After two weeks of constant dinner-cooking and movie nights with the polyamorous couple, Scott had taken Stiles to the side and asked if everything was alright. Stiles knew, that for Scott it was as much Stiles being his brother in all but blood and the “I need to fulfill my duty as Alpha” that made him offensively caring. Still, Stiles had just scoffed, reassured him that no, he was fine and that it was just the adjustment period that had him reeling. After that, he didn’t go back to their place, unless he was invited. 

When it came to the packhouse, the “rules” were a bit less strict – at one point or another everybody from the pack showed up. Sometimes every day, sometimes just a few times a week or in Peter's case only for an hour or two on the weekends. The whole pack had come together to plan and build it and after it was finished, Cora and Kira had taken over one of the bigger bedrooms and declared that they were going to live here now. Derek may hadn’t shown it, but he was ecstatic. He and Braeden had taken the master bedroom and there were still enough rooms for the rest of the pack. For a while, Peter had moved in as well, but as soon as he found an apartment up to his standards in downtown Beacon City, he had left. Derek and Braeden didn’t mind – especially since Derek and Cora still worked on the time they had lost after the fire. 

After about two weeks of Stiles cooking dinner and staying as long as he possibly could without falling asleep behind the wheel, Derek had cornered him and started asking questions. Did he feel uncomfortable or unsafe in his new home? Did he feel lonely or isolated? Stiles had scoffed, again brought up the excuse of still getting used to not constantly having to take care of someone else and went home – to his immense relief Derek left it at that, even though Stiles was sure his chemo signals went through the roof with his anxiety. He liked Derek, he really did, and the much-needed therapy had helped the guy immensely – but the side effect of it? Derek suddenly talked. About feelings. Didn’t matter if it was about his or Braeden’s (she had shut that down incredibly fast), Peter’s (see the moving out as fast as possible) or Cora’s who took it with a grain of salt and – as she once confided in Stiles, mainly for Derek’s sake – played along or simply told him that she wasn’t in the mood for deep heart to heart conversations at the given moment. 

Stiles envied her. He wasn’t going to lie to himself, he needed a shit ton of therapy, but finding someone in the know was hard enough without the actual reality of opening up, showing his vulnerable side and talk about trauma.  
Rubbing over his face with his free hand, he opened the door and stepped foot in his scarcely furnished and decorated two-room-apartment. The sound of the snapping lock took him out of his musings and with another sigh, he toed out of his sneakers, kicked them to the side, put his satchel bag next to the door and stretched. 

He ignored the small mirror hanging next to the door, courtesy of Lydia, making his way into the kitchen. If he dared to look too closely, he would see all the things the pack was currently bothering him about.

_“Your dark circles have dark circles, Stiles.”  
“When was the last time you slept more than three hours, Stiles?”  
“Do you eat regularly, Stiles?”  
“You look like you lost at least 10 pounds, Stiles, that can’t be healthy.”_

If he really took in his physical appearance, he had to admit to himself that it mirrored his emotional state too closely. Fresh out of college with a degree in Mythology and an apprenticeship under an old, but quite famous witch in the community, under his belt. The owner of a little, still empty shop directly under his apartment that Derek had bought with the pack funds, so he could work with the things that truly interested him. And he still felt like a barely functioning mess. 

The whole apartment and shop thing had led to more than one fight with Derek and Scott, but the two Alphas wouldn’t budge and after a while (and a whole lot of Stiles being annoying) they had agreed to Stiles paying them back, as soon as the shop was profitable. But all of that was over six months ago, and Stiles still hadn’t managed to get his head out of his ass and start working on the shop or his presence in the community. He was still working at the small plant nursery outside of Beacon City and it paid enough for utilities and food. The job was good enough, the people nice enough but it was … a bit mindless. Make sure the plants don’t die, help customers find the stuff they need and that’s it. Anything else besides that? Too much. And not enough. 

Humming out of tune Stiles grabbed a bowl, the box of cereal and the milk out of the fridge and sat down at the little dining table. He was 22 fucking years old and allowed to eat cereal as dinner. 

One thing he had managed to learn about himself since he lived truly alone for the first time in his life, was that he was perfectly capable of taking care of others. It didn’t matter if it was his father, his pack or – while he was in college – his roomies. He had it all figured out, knew how to manage a household, do various chores and how to manage individual persons nutrition. But just for himself? 

He simply didn’t have the energy. Why would he cook a full meal, if he was the only one eating it? A protein bar, cereal or a sandwich would do. Laundry? For a single person, he produced just enough to put on the washer once a week, so no stress there. 

Sleep? Another beast altogether. As soon as his subconscious seemed to realize, that there was no one there he had to be strong for, the nightmares and terrors came back with a vengeance. That, coupled with the fact that no one was there to tell him to get it his skinny ass to bed at 4 AM since he had work in the morning, his sleep rhythm was fucked up – if he slept at all. Waking up in a cold sweat, shaking and short of breath on the brink of a panic attack got old pretty fast. It was easier to take a few power naps over the day so he was awake enough to function. 

No one controlled if he was eating healthy, slept enough if he was as okay as he told. Stiles prided himself on having perfected his mask, even if he couldn’t deceive the wolfs picking up on his scent. And yes, they shot him worried glances, asked now and then about how he was feeling and offered a shoulder to cry on if he ever felt necessary – but that wasn’t what Stiles felt he needed. 

At first, Stiles had considered getting a pet. A cat maybe. They wouldn’t need to be walked three times a day, they could be left alone while he was at work at the nursery and hey! He was working with magic – or at least planning to, considering he sooner or later was going to open his shop – so what would be better suited than a feline, greeting customers, lounging on shelves and leaving its fur everywhere? 

Then he reconsidered. With his job at the moment, he was in no position to really get himself a pet. Even if a cat just needed to be fed, have a clean litterbox and sometimes needed to be played and cuddled with – he didn’t know if this was enough care and responsibility to get him out of his funk. What if he ended up neglecting the poor thing? What if he was allergic, like his dad? What if the wolves didn’t like it and even though he had bonded to it already, needed to get rid of it? What if, what if, what if. So, Stiles had shelved the idea and resigned himself to looking for another way to get back on track. Maybe he should try yoga. Mediation alone always made him even twitchier than before. 

Now, sitting at his little kitchen island, littered with leaflets and newspapers and one or the other magazines, Stiles had to admit that getting a cat really would only bring more problems. He looked at the dirt crusted under his fingernails and sighed. One day, maybe. But wasn’t getting a pet in the state he was in, similar to a struggling couple getting a kid to save their marriage? Stiles read enough stories about that to know, that in the end everyone involved suffered one way or another. And with that, he couldn’t deal with. He struggled enough with his guilt, with his friends and family getting involved too much in his problems and shortcomings and even considering putting someone or something in that mess, that had no other choice? Despicable.

The soft buzzing of his phone made Stiles look up from his cereal and with a swift motion, he unlocked the screen and stared at the message popping up. 

_“Found a weird symbol on a tree. Close to the house. Meeting at 7 PM tomorrow. Scott’s going to show it to Deaton.”_

Fuck. And it had finally been calm for more than a few weeks in a row. Wondering why it was Derek that was sending him the info and not Scott, he furrowed his brows and pressed on the speed calling for Scott. 

_“Hey Stiles, what’s up? You alright?”_

“Yeah, I am. Are you?”, Stiles couldn’t help the bitterness creeping in his voice. 

_“Why wouldn’t I be, dude? I am watching a movie with Isaac. Allison is still at that conference with Chris and-“_

“Yeah, okay, but why did Derek of all people just inform me about the pack meeting tomorrow? And what about that symbol? Have you talked to Deaton yet?”

For second Scott was quiet, making Stiles gnaw on his bottom lip in rising frustration and anxiety. The dejected sigh on the other end of the connection made him freeze.

_“Look, I just don’t think you should get involved in this, Stiles.”_

“What.”

_“No, look. Hear me out, please.”_ , Scott mumbled, before starting to talk again. _“The last few weeks, you just … I don’t know, man. You really seem a bit out of it. I talked to Derek and he’s worried about you too, but we kind of have different opinions about how to deal with it.”_

Stiles was fuming. His shaking hands were making it hard to keep the phone at his ear and taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes.

“Scott. I am fine. Yes, I am struggling a bit with the whole living alone for the first-time thing, I am not used to it. But leaving me out of the loop? Dick move, Scotty. Dick move.”

It was one thing to know that someone worried about him (he wasn’t sure if he felt warm about that, or guilty) and another one when someone tried to take away his choice of action.

“I’ll come by after work tomorrow and help figure out this symbol. Because let’s face it, Scott. Between you and me, I have a better chance of understanding what the fuck this thing means. Good night.”

With a huff, Stiles ended the call, put the phone next to his still half-full bowl of cereal and made his way to the bathroom. He needed a hot shower and some sleep.  
There was work to do.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Talks about feelings, some flirting - and what the fuck is in the woods?

The next day, Stiles had spent most of his time at work worrying about whatever was going on with the symbol – and Scott. After the whole fiasco with the Nogitsune and Donovan, it had taken months and months of awkward talks, almost violent fights and a lot of tears for him and Scott to get their relationship on a level they could both live with. They were still close – not as close as before – but the way it was, was good. They were different people with different opinions and different worldviews. So why had Scott tried to exclude him from this? Shaking his head Stiles cleaned his hands on his apron. 

“I am off, Gary!”

“Fine. Get home safe!” 

Gary, the owner of the nursery, was an elderly guy with a rough way of acting and a heart of gold. Stiles once saw how he lovingly stroked the leaves of a wilting plant, whispering sweet endorsements and wishing it well. Clapping the man on the shoulder, Stiles untied his apron with one hand before grabbing his bag. 

“Remember to wash the aprons, Gary. They’re getting a bit stiff.”

The old man just snorted, before shooing him away and with a laugh Stiles threw the dirty fabric in the hamper on his way out. The sky was cloudy and tinged pink with the setting sun and for a second Stiles stilled, closed his eyes and enjoyed the soft breeze on his face. He really hoped Scott and Derek wouldn’t fight at the meeting, because Derek told him about the symbol. 

“Hey.”

“Hey, Derek.”

Stiles threw himself on the couch, a constipated but still slightly excited expression on his face. Taking off his shoes he noticed Derek sitting down in one of the arm chairs and already kind of prepping himself for an impromptu therapy session Stiles propped his sock-clad feet on the coffee table. Braeden came into the room, a mug of something steaming in her hands and – even though he had hoped it was coffee for him, she simply cocked one of her brows and took a sip.

“It’s tea, Stiles. Nothing you’d touch with a ten-foot pole.”

“I do drink tea, I am not a complete heathen!”, exclaimed Stiles. “I simply think coffee is better, nothing wrong with that.”

“Mhm.”

Rolling his eyes Stiles leaned back and looked at Derek. The alpha looked at ease, a soft smile on his face and a hint of worry in his gaze. 

“Thanks for telling me about tonight. If I am pissed with Scott, don’t let it bother you.”

“He’s worried about you. We all are.”

With a grumble Stiles turned his body towards his alpha – and yes, realizing that he identified Derek as his alpha, not Scott, had been an interesting (speak, panic-inducing) moment – and shot him a look.

“There’s nothing to worry about, Derek. Yeah, I am not doing too great right now, but it’s nothing major. Just takes some time.”

Derek sighed and nodded slowly. 

“Still. You know if something is wrong you can always talk to me, right? If you don’t want to speak with Scott I mean.”

Now it was his turn to smile. 

“I know, Der-Bear. But really, it’s going to be fine. Nothing supernatural, nothing life-or-death, nothing important.”

“If it’s something bothering you it IS important, Stiles! I know I can … I mean I know that it’s annoying to some of you, that I …you know, talk more about stuff, but-“

Stiles held up his hands, brows furrowed and a serious expression in his eyes.

“Dude, no. Yes, it can be a bit much, but we’re all so damn happy that you’re feeling better! We know you don’t mean any harm by it, the opposite actually, it’s just that we’re not all at the touchy-feely point of our lives yet.”

Derek nodded, looking slightly chastised and smirked. 

“Yeah. Anyway, you know. We’re pack.”

“We’re, big guy.”

The next ten minutes passed in comfortable silence, then Derek looked to the door.   
Stiles took his feet from the table and turned around, only moments later Peter strolled through the door, looking as if he never moved out and this was still his turf. 

“Good evening, gentlemen. And lady, I suppose.”

“Since when am I a lady in your eyes, Peter?”, Braeden snarked and Peter grinned. 

“I was talking about Stiles here. I thought with his constant position as damsel in distress, he earned the title.”

Braeden laughed, Derek smiled and Stiles huffed, a small grin on his face. 

“Well, since I am a Lady apparently, where’s my curtsy Peter?”

To be perfectly honest Stiles didn’t anticipate Peter to utter a soft,   
“Of course, darling.”  
and sinking to his knees in front of Stiles. Frozen in place Stiles watched, as if it was an out of body experience, how Peter took his right hand in his and breathed a kiss on the back of it. 

“Better?”

The bastard had the audacity to wink at Stiles, while he felt the heat rising to his face. Remembering the stint in the theater group of middle school, channeling his inner royal, Stiles mumbled haughtily

“I suppose it must suffice.” 

Now all of them laughed openly and with an eye-roll Peter let himself sink into the couch cushions next to Stiles. 

“Let me guess, Scott didn’t want you to know?”

Stiles looked up, surprisal evident on his face and with a curious glance he fixated the older wolf.

“And how would you guess that, creeper wolf?”

“Your scent.”, Peter grinned. “I can understand his worry, but the boy should’ve learned by now that keeping you out of the loop is more likely to push your recklessness.”

“Recklessness? I give you-“

“Okay, that’s enough. The others just pulled up and we have better things to do than replay the same discussion every single time.”, Derek groaned, leaning his head against Braedens side.  
Stiles rolled his eyes, pushed his bony elbow into Peters side and grunted non-committal. 

About fifteen minutes before seven the wolfs in the room stilled.

“Three cars.”, Peter told Stiles, before shooting a look to Derek. “Cora, Kira. Come on down, the others are here.”

“I am not deaf.”, Cora grumbled, already coming down the stairs and holding hands with Kira.   
Peter rolled his eyes (‘Must be something genetic’, Stiles mused.) and Derek – still able to hold whole conversations with his eyebrows alone, took a look at his sister and her girlfriend. That those two had ended up together had been a bit of a shock. Soft, innocent Kira and …well. Cora. Grinning Stiles accepted the half-hug from Kira, ducked away from Coras attempt at ruffling his hair and leaned farther back into the couch, tension obvious in his posture. 

The rest of the pack didn’t bother knocking before entering the house – something that pleased Derek immensely – and stormed the living room with the usual chatter. When Scott entered and saw Stiles he shot the boy and apologetic look and shrugged slightly. Stiles simply lifted one of his eyebrows and crossed his arms in front of his chest. Scott looked like a kicked puppy. 

He knew it was worry that had made him try to get Stiles to stay out of the latest shenanigans, but they knew each other long enough for him to know, that it would only end in a fight. Sighing Stiles focused his attention on Derek. The man looked relaxed. Whatever the sigil meant; Derek didn’t seem to immediately think of something dangerous. 

“And Deaton says it’s fairies?”

“Fae, Kira.”, Stiles grumbled, studying the small symbol carved into the bark of an oak. “He’s right in that one, this is from the Seelie-Court and apparently they want to meet the pa- “

A snapping twig and a soft glow pulled their attention to the rest of their surroundings, Peter immediately positioned himself between Stiles and the newcomer. Scott, Derek, and the others had already moved into a defensive posture, Erica snarling softly and Boyd his intense gaze focused on the approaching glow. 

“Peter, wh- “

“Shh.”

It was Derek who finally spoke up, his voice as soft as unthreatening as possible. 

“Good evening. Did you leave this symbol?”

While Isaac looked like he wanted to storm forward, the rest of the pack followed Derek’s lead and relaxed slightly. Deaton – and Stiles for that matter thank you! – had told the pack more than once that the Fae most likely wasn’t on the offense, if they left a note of sorts and didn’t just ambush them on the full moon. Whatever they wanted, it wasn’t necessarily something nefarious. 

“Good evening.”, the tinkering, glowing silhouette whispered and suddenly, as if the next step they took was finally enough, the pack could see what, or better who was talking. It was definitely a Fae, Stiles realized. The thin, kind of long body, paired with the elegance and posture of a king or queen and the distinct feeling of their natural magic told him all he had to know. 

“My name is Ilfríd, I am Princess of the second court. I am sorry if I worried you.”

Derek smiled slightly and inclined his head. 

“No need to apologize, princess. My name is Derek Hale, this is Scott McCall.”, he slowly raised his hand to point to Scott, who imitated Derek and inclined his head for a moment. “We’re the Alphas of this pack.”

“I know.”, she smiled and another clear, bell-like laugh echoed through the forest. “I am here in behalf of my mother, the queen. We want to thank the guardian.”

“The guardian?”, Stiles piped up, elbowing his way around Peter and meeting the gaze of the Fae. “The guardian of what?”

The Fae studied him for a moment and Stiles felt the unfamiliar magic briefly touch him before a bright smile lit up her face. 

“You!”, she exclaimed, stepping closer and ignoring Peters growling. “The guardian! You’re the spark that helped the nemeton recover, aren’t you?”

For a second Stiles was utterly confused, while the others stared at him.

“I mean, I kind of helped it getting rid of the rot and the stuff. And I do feed it a bit of my magic ever now and then, to make sure it’s doing okay and-“

“Yes, spark. As I said, you’re the guardian!”

“But I didn’t-“

The Fae grabbed his hands, staring at him in awe and gratitude. The only reason Peter didn’t do anything drastic, was Derek grabbing him by the shoulder and shaking his head.

“I don’t think you understand, young guardian. Nemeta, they’re … holy. Our magic is not able to care for them, but that you decided to help is…”

Shocked, Stiles realized tears in the eyes of the princess and again, for the second time tonight, he felt heat rising in his cheeks.

“I just…”

But the Fae didn’t even think about letting him talk what he did down, instead she lifted one of her long-fingered hands and stroked carefully over his cheek. 

“We’re more than thankful for you gift, young Spark.”

“Stiles, I. My name is Stiles.”

The Fae nodded and let out a shuddering breath. 

“As a thank you, we want to give you a gift in return.”

That was the moment Stiles – and the rest of the pack for that matter – started to worry. The Fae saw the concept of gifts quite differently. Refusing it would be offending in more ways than one and most likely result in their death – and accepting it could bring one hell of a lot of trouble. 

“That- I- “

“Whatever you need most, will be given to you, Stiles. Thank you.”

Stiles felt warmth tingle from the points of contact with her hands and with a sudden gust of wind she vanished. Before Stiles could even start to comprehend what the hell just happened, the world around him seemed to tilt – and everything went black.


	3. Chapter 3

A soft creaking noise fought its way into his dream. He was warm.

“Is he still unconscious?”

That… was that Derek?

“Yes.”, another voice answered. It sounded like Peter. What were they talking about? 

“According to Deaton he should wake soon.”

“I talked to the Sheriff. He said he’s coming over as soon as he can.”

He felt slight motions next to him, the sound of rustling fabric. The scent of leather, warm and slightly musky got stronger.

“His heartrate changed. I think he’s waking up.”

A hand touched his forehead, surprisingly gentle. 

“You with us, darling?”

Stiles didn’t want to open his eyes. He felt safe and comfy and the hand on his skin was nice. With a confused grumble, he felt the tension in the air and struggled against the heaviness of his eyelids, blinking against the harsh light of an overhead lamp.

“What happened?”, a child asked. Only that he just asked that. 

He froze. He just had asked that. But his voice… Why did he sound like a child? His eyes widened, he could feel his heartbeat starting to race, a sudden tightness of his chest made it hard to breathe. There was a ringing in his ears. Stiles didn’t want to acknowledge it, but the morbid mix of dread and curiosity won out and he slowly lifted his hands. His tiny, chubby looking hands. His breath caught in his throat and he saw more than he felt the shaking of his body.

“He’s having a panic attack!”, Derek furiously whispered. “Do something!”

A panic attack? Yeah, that sounded like him. He was tiny. He was a child. Why was he a child? What had happened? Stiles forced his eyes shut.

“No, no, no, no….”

Huge hands took his own and suddenly he felt the telltale thrum of a heartbeat underneath his palm.

“Breath darling”, Peter gently encouraged him. “Breathe with me. In, one, two… out, one, two… that’s good. Keep going, just breath with me…”

Stiles did his best to follow the instructions, matching the breathing of the other man and slowly the tightness in his chest and the daze receded. Peter was still talking quietly to him, trying his best to calm him down. 

“What … what happened?”

Fuck. He sounded small. Small and insecure and vulnerable and just… fuck. He was a kid. 

“That’s something we hoped you could tell us.”, mumbled Derek and sat next to him on the bed, close enough for Stiles to feel the supernatural warmth of his body, without making him feel caged in.

Peter on his other side put an arm around him. Slowly Stiles started to take in his surroundings. They were sitting on a bed, with a crème colored comforter. The room… everything looked huge. Imposing and slightly threatening. With a quiet whimper, Stiles closed his eyes again for a second, taking a deep breath and forcing his racing heart to slow down.   
The way it seemed they were in the bedroom Peter used to call his own. The navy-blue wall behind the bed was a dead giveaway and it looked really pretty. It remembered Stiles of the night sky. The only thing that was missing were the stars. 

“You should put stars on the wall.”, he mumbled. “Would make it look like the sky.”

A careful smile grazed Peters lips, Derek seemed lost. 

“Stiles, what do you remember?”

Stiles tried to focus. Stars on the wall? What was he thinking? Since he got his Adderall and grown up a bit, he had managed his ADHD pretty well and even if he had a bad day, it was more likely for his thoughts to jump to completely unrelated topics or something morbid, but home décor? 

“There … there was this Fae, in the woods?”, he finally mumbled, slightly unsure and only now realizing that Peters thumb made little circles on the back of his hand. He didn’t mind. 

“That’s right, darling. What else?”

Stiles concentrated, trying to remember and scrunching up his face. 

“I think… she said something. About a gift?”

Derek nodded. Even though he had a small smile on his face, the worry in his eyes was obvious. 

“Exactly. She said that whatever you needed the most would be given to you.”, he said and held Stiles gaze. “Why would she turn you into a child, Stiles?”

That was the question, wasn’t it? He didn’t remember the exact words the Fae spoke, but if it was supposed to be a gift, why wouldn’t it be some more motivation? More energy? A boost for his magic or some other way to help him protect the persons he loved? Confused and overwhelmed Stiles shrugged, realizing to his utmost terror that there were tears gathering in his eyes. A hiccupping sob escaped his throat and suddenly he was lifted on Peters lap, warm and strong arms around him and holding him close. Without thinking to closely about it, he buried his face in the crook of Peters neck. 

“Shh. It’s alright. We’ll manage, sweetheart.”

By now Stiles had started to outright sob, clinging to the soft material of Peters sweater and wishing for all of this to be just a dream. He heard Derek and Peter softly speaking to each other, but right now he wanted to focus on nothing more than the warmth of Peters hand on his back, the soft caresses that made him feel safe and calm. They would find the answers, wouldn’t they? He wouldn’t be stuck like this forever, right? Exhausted from the sudden emotional outburst Stiles closed his eyes for a moment. Nobody needed to know if he rested for a bit longer, in Peters embrace.

Peter felt raw. Small hands clenching his sweater, soft snuffling noises and the utter trust of child-Stiles were tugging at the heartstrings he refused to let anyone know he had. He still caressed the boys back, wondering how the fuck they had ended up in this situation. Magic accidents? No big deal, they had usually either a counter-spell or a time limit, but Fae-magic?   
Sighing he lifted Stiles up a bit higher, cradling the small body close and breathing in. Stiles scent hadn’t changed much, considering the basics, but there was a distinct lack of pain, stress, anxiety, and chemicals. Everything about him not only looked younger but seemed to be younger too. The way Stiles had started to sob, his emotions so close to the surface, trying to be strong and failing. And what was up with that comment about his wall…? He just hoped the Sheriff came over soon. Maybe with him around, Stiles would calm down enough to form a coherent thought. 

Half an hour later the doorbell rang and Derek jumped off of the couch to get it. His mind was reeling and to be fair, he was freaking the fuck out. His mother had told him, Laura and Cora stories about the Fae. How they could be mischievous, how they liked to play tricks now and then but were rarely malicious as long as they weren’t provoked. Was what the Fae princess – or whoever she was – said, a fluke? Did they simply want to get rid of the magic-user in the territory? Did they want the Nemeton gone or did Stiles do something wrong in their eyes? Why did they turn one of their most useful assets and beloved packmate into a helpless, little kid?  
Opening the door, he looked in the tired face of the Sheriff. The man looked surprisingly old, different than usual. The lines around his eyes seemed deeper, the emotion in his eyes more intense. 

“Derek.”, the Sheriff nodded. “Where is he?”

“John. Upstairs, with Peter. He had a break-down earlier and fell asleep on Peters lap after. I don’t think he’s awake yet.” 

The Sheriff nodded, a grim expression on his face and without another word he made his way to the stairs. The thought of Stiles, who had been struggling in the last few months, even if he didn’t want anyone to know, suddenly being in such a shit show of situation…   
Looking down the hallway John wondered. Derek had told him the cliff notes-version of what had happened, but why did the Fae think, what Stiles needed the most was to be a kid again…? John stopped himself from thinking too hard about it, the guilt in his stomach churning and with a sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew, that as a father, he hadn’t been doing the best job, especially after Claudias death, but did he really mess up that bad…?

“In here, John.”

Following the quiet voice of Peter, he went to the only ajar door and stepped in. What he saw took his breath away. There on Peters lap huddled his little boy, still red in the face and with tear streaks on his face. Looking at the sleeping form of his kid, he couldn’t help but notice how much Stiles had changed. He looked so soft, vulnerable and innocent. The burdens of the world – supernatural and “normal” – hadn’t yet left their marks on his boy. He could feel the calculating gaze of Peter on him and tried to focus.

“Whatever magic the Fae used seemed to have tuckered him out. He was only awake for a brief moment, before realizing what had happened and freaking out.”, whispered Peter and carded his fingers through the messy flop or hair on his kids' head. 

The fatherly side of him wanted to snatch Stiles out of Peters grip, but taking a deep breath he calmed himself down. Stiles obviously seemed to trust Peter enough to fall asleep in his lap and in the last couple of years even John had started to begrudgingly like the man. 

“How old is he, John?”, Peter wondered. “It’s hard to tell, none of us knew him before.”

“About …”, his voice broke for a second. “About four? I think?”

Peter nodded slowly.

“Where are the others?”, John asked, rubbing his neck, still unable to look away from the small body in Peters arms. 

“Derek sent them home. He didn’t want Stiles to be even more overwhelmed when he woke up. Probably for the best. He seemed embarrassed enough about Derek and me witnessing his break down.”

John nodded, slowly coming closer and sitting on the edge of the bed. Stiles snuffled in his sleep and a soft, rueful smile showed on Johns face.

“Derek and I have talked.”, Peter started again. “About what to do, until Stiles is back to his grown-up self.”

John lifted his gaze, already dreading where this conversation was headed.

“We have no idea how long this will take. You’re working, so is Melissa and most of the pack. Braeden has to leave for a trip tomorrow morning and – to be fair, I wouldn’t necessarily trust her with a kid.”

John nodded, carefully caressing Stiles cheek with one finger. 

“Currently only Derek and I have the time to be around. My work is mostly done from home and Derek is still working on the pack contacts. If you-“

Everything in the older man screamed about how it was his job to take care of his little boy, his privilege – but years of dealing with Stiles and being aware of his own shortcomings, he made sure he didn’t voice any of it. 

“It… it will be Stiles choice.”, he murmured after a second of consideration. Raising his hand, he carded it through the soft, dark brown hair of his baby. “I won’t lie. I’d like to see him and … I didn’t do the best job with him. Especially after Claudia…”

Peter nodded slowly. Torn between exclaiming something along the lines of “No Shit.” And comforting the man. Before Peter could think any farther, a sudden spike in Stiles heartrate told him that the toddler was about to wake up. With a nod to the small body, he looked at John.  
Stiles slowly opened his eyes, again confused for a second, before what happened came back to him. With a sigh he sat up more, balancing on Peters lap and looking first at the wolf, then at his father.

“Dad?”

“Oh, Stiles.”

John opened his arms and with a wobbling bottom lip, Stiles crawled over to his father, kneeing Peter in the side while doing so. Peter only grunted quietly.  
Stiles shuddered when John closed his arms around him, the familiar smell of his father engulfing him and reminding him of more carefree times. Times when his mom still was around.

“I am so sorry, son. Derek and the others told me what happened, they’re already working on trying to find out how to help you.”

Stiles nodded, clinging to the coarse material of the Sheriff's uniform.

“John?”  
Peter looked up and met Peters gaze. 

“Do you still have his kid clothes?”

John shook his head.

“Before Stiles moved out, we cleaned out the attic. Looked for stuff he may find a use for. When he found the boxes with his kids’ stuff, he decided to donate them.”

Peter nodded slowly, but the Sheriff focused back on his kid.

“Hey buddy.”, he started softly, caressing Stiles back. “Peter and I just talked about how to go from here. I am still working and it would look suspicious if I suddenly ran around town with a little Stiles again.”

Stiles listened, then nodded carefully. His anxiety reared its head and Peter put one of his hands on Stiles back, just under Johns. His dad rarely had had time for him and while the rational, still adult part of him knew that it wasn’t that his dad didn’t want him to be around, but that it was a simple matter of responsibility, the steadily getting stronger childlike side in him was hurt. John seemed to pick up on the tension, the same as Peter and pressed himself against his little boy.

“I would love to take every single vacation and sick-leave to stay with you, kid. Immediately. But I can’t just up and go as I please.”

Stiles nodded, before wriggling off of his dad's lap and looking from him to Peter.

“What … what do we do?”

Fuck, he still wasn’t used to his voice sounding like this. Before either of the men could answer, the door opened and Derek stepped in, a plate with a sandwich and a glass of orange juice in his hands. 

“Well.”, he started, handing Stiles the cargo and smiling softly. “We thought you might want to stay here until everything is sorted out. I suppose Peter wouldn’t mind a little shopping spree to make sure you have everything you need either.”

“Of course not!”, Peter smirked. “Right now, you’re practically swimming in your clothes, sweetheart.”

While John looked thunderous at the sound of the endearment, Stiles looked down at himself and frowned. It was true. He was still wearing his adult boxers and shirt. It looked ridiculous, not to speak of the lack of comfort and the fact he had to hold up the boxers to not be naked. 

“Stiles, if you’d rather-“

“It’s okay dad.”, Stiles interrupted him. “I’ll stay with Peter and Derek.”

For a moment John seemed torn between feeling hurt and relieved. At the end of whatever emotional turmoil, he had just experienced, he looked resigned and nodded slowly. He knew that he didn’t deserve a second chance at being Stiles dad, at making it right, not to talk about the fact that he simply couldn’t stop everything to take care of a kid again. 

“Alright buddy.”, he mumbled. “If you need anything – whenever! – you call me, yes?”  
Stiles nodded, put on a brave little smile and hugged the for him unusual huge frame of his dad.

“I will dad. Don’t worry, okay? Tell Melissa hi?”

John nodded, suppressing the tears gathering in his eyes and stood up. 

“Okay. Good. Uhm.”, he rubbed his neck and looked at the door. “I’ll talk to you later, buddy. Love you.”

“Love you too, dad.”

With an awkward little wave, John retreated from the room and made his way downstairs. It probably was for the best, that Stiles was with someone that had the time and patience to take care of him right now. With a sigh, he stepped out of the house and to the cruiser.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to scream a bit about Stiles and Peter and Derek and whatnot - find me on tumblr under nefariousalpha :D


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey lovelies :)  
> This fic is finished, just needs to be edited chapter by chapter. I don't know if I'll be able to update regularly though D:  
> Hope you enjoy the new chapter!

„How are you feeling Stiles?”

Peter had gotten up and stretched, his gaze never leaving Stiles. The toddler slash adult shrugged. Stiles was upset. Old wounds opening, new ones trying to heal. The whole chaotic situation. He felt like a drowning man in the middle of the ocean, with no land in sight. 

“I don’t know. I am still me. I just… feel more like a kid, I guess? But not much, just… it feels like it’s creeping up on me slowly.”

Peter nodded carefully.

“And you are really alright with Derek and me taking care of you?”

“Not much I can do about it, can I?”, Stiles snarked and Peter huffed a small laugh. 

“True enough. Eat your sandwich, Stiles. It’s late and tomorrow we have some shopping to do.”

Stiles groaned.

“If you dress me like a mini-you I am going to make your life hell, just so we’re clear.”

Peters grin widened and with an excited glimmer in his eyes, he held one of his hands to his chest.

“Me? Never. Even though I have to admit you’d look adorable in a tiny Hugh Heffner robe.”

Stiles stuck his tongue out, sporting a wry grin and finally took a bite of the sandwich. The glass of orange juice was put on the nightstand and Stiles eyed it for a second. It was …big. Grimacing slightly he put the sandwich on the plate, leaned forward and grabbed the glass with both hands – fuck, he needed both hands. At least Derek had been considerate enough to only fill this monstrosity half. Slowly he took a few sips, only then realizing how thirsty he was. 

“Slow down, Stiles.” 

Stiles shot a look to Peter who smiled slightly before shrugging.

“Fine. If you get a hiccup you have no one to blame but yourself.”

The boy grumbled, put down the glass and grabbed the sandwich. Fine. If Peter wanted to be patronizing, he could deal with crumbs in his bed. …His bed? Would Peter even stay? He didn’t live here anymore, no matter if the room was kept empty for the nights he slept over. The coil of tension in his body wound tighter and with a frown, he stared at the sandwich.

“Peter?”

The wolf perked up a bit, leaning closer and tried to figure out what had soured the scent of his (no. not his.) boy. 

“Yes, pup?”

Stiles looked up, startled by the endearment and bit his bottom lip. 

“Are you even staying here?”, he mumbled barely audible. “I am sure you have better things to do.”

For a second Peter stayed quiet, before he sighed, took the sandwich out of Stiles's hands, put it back on the table and grabbed Stiles’ shoulders, turning the toddler towards himself. Stiles reluctantly met Peters gaze, surprised by the intensity in the wolfs eyes.

“You are pack, Stiles.”, Peter said slowly. “Pack takes care of their own.”

Stiles shrugged, feeling the heat in his face and lowered his gaze.

“Yeah, but I mean… It’s just me. And Derek is here, so you wouldn’t have to, right?”

Peter gently grabbed Stiles chin, forcing him to look at him and with a soft smile he shook his head.

“Stiles, I told you before. I like you. And nothing has changed about that.”, his grip loosened and with two fingers he caressed Stiles cheek. “I know I am not exactly a person you’d associate with… caring, I suppose. But I care about pack and I care about you. Right now, at this very moment, there is nothing more important than making sure, that you’re alright and taken care of."

With wonder in his eyes, Stiles looked for any kind of insincerity on Peters face but found none. With a huff and a small smile, he nodded.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Derek and Peter made up the spare room next to Peters for Stiles, figuring that it would take at least a few days for the whole debacle to be done with. While mini-Stiles explored the room, opening almost everything that could be opened, poking around the few decorations and the spare pillows in the closet, Peter secretly made some plans.  
He had an inkling to why the Faes gift played out the way it had and sue him – he was going to make the most of it. In the last few months, Peter and Stiles hadn’t interacted overly much, due to the fact that it was suspiciously quiet on the supernatural front and minimum research sessions had been needed. While they weren’t really friends in the “hanging out and sharing secrets” kind of way, Peter deemed them rather close – especially after the Nogitsune and the wild hunt. 

Watching Stiles grow from the lanky, rambling teenager to the sadly still insecure but more grounded young man had been beautiful – and Peter couldn’t stop observing, even from afar. Aside from more or less regular pack meetings, he only really “met” Stiles fleetingly in town, after the boy had come back from college. The last time he had run into Stiles in the grocery store, he had immediately realized that something was wrong – long before Derek told him about the young man seeking refuge in the packhouse. If only Derek and his need to share the therapeutic talking with the people around him, Stiles might have finally decided to drop the pretense and move in, instead of withering away in an apartment he obviously didn’t feel comfortable in.  
The few months before Stiles went off to college, he had looked healthy, if a little worse for wear when it came to the bags under his eyes and the sickly pallor. Peter knew that the boy was still plagued by nightmares, had watched on more than one occasion how Stiles would secretly count his fingers. But he had seemed mostly stable, eating regular meals – or what a more or less teenager like Stiles considered meals – and sleeping enough to get by. Even when he came back with his degree and the recommendations of a witch, Stiles had seemed okay. But the last few weeks he seemed to fade more or and more, with every passing day.  
In a fit of paranoia, Peter had considered a myriad of different reasons for Stiles predicament. Possession, curses, sickness – there was nothing he didn’t secretly test for, but everything came back negative. Watching the young man and talking to Derek about the Alphas' own observation, he had come to a rather simple conclusion. Stiles was depressed. With everything he knew about Stiles, it was clear that the boy wasn’t used to not having someone he had to care for. He wasn’t used to just being responsible for himself – and it had taken Peter a bottle of wolfsbane laced whiskey and some action movies with unnecessary violence to not drive to the dear Sheriff and have some words.  
Stiles also seemed to not be used to someone taking care of him at all. From what Derek had told him, Stiles had seemed to be stuck between fight and flight as soon as Scott or Derek offered help – in any way the younger man needed it. For Stiles apparently ‘needing help’ translated to weak and vulnerable, if not uselessness. Being a burden.  
Taking a deep breath, Peter forced the claws back that had slipped out during his musings. Maybe this was the reason for this… gift. The lingering innocence and needfulness of being a kid. Young enough to definitely not be able to take care of himself (and didn’t that bring back memories. After the wild hunt, he once had found Stiles drunk off his ass in the middle of the preserve, close to the old house. Talking to Peter without a sliver of hesitation or wariness. Talking about being eight years old and learning how to cook full meals, how to do the laundry and iron shirts. Talking about learning how to coordinate doctors’ appointments, forging his fathers signature and planning his own med intake. Talking about learning from books how to put someone in the recovery position, after he had heard Melissa talking about a drunkard, suffocating on his own vomit. Telling Peter how he never had a full night of sleep, always one ear on his drunk father, having to guess if it was going to be a night where the man would fall asleep somewhere, bottle in hand – or one where he would take out his emotions on the only available target. Thankfully, Stiles had said, his father never laid a hand on him. But whatever the man used to scream at his only son had left scars that Stiles didn’t talk about. That night he had learned a lot.) pretty much forced to ask for help or accept others taking care of him. And Peter? He was honest enough with himself to know, that he would enjoy taking care of Stiles, spoiling the boy and making sure he had everything he could ever need.  
For him being the left hand and pack enforcer never stood opposite from his need to care. Hell, when he hadn’t been pushed more and more to the outskirts of the pack, he actually used to volunteer to babysit his cousins, nieces, and nephew. His primal, purely instinctual need to protect, provide and care was one of the main reasons why he had wanted to become an Alpha. He didn’t mind the responsibility and even if Derek seemed to repress it sometimes, Peter could be gentle and soft, always an open ear, a shoulder to cry on or a fist to use when a bully went too far.  
And Stiles… he didn’t know if Stiles truly trusted him, but he seemed to accept him enough – point taken, when he had scented the underlying fear of Peter hightailing it out of the situation. Peter would try his best at taking care of Stiles – and if he enjoyed it immensely, no one here needed to know and judgment day was hopefully still far away.

“Peter?”

Pulled out of his thoughts he looked up and into the bright amber eyes of mini-Stiles. 

“Yes?”

“I am going to sleep here?”

Peter nodded, curious about what Stiles wanted.

“Hm.”

“What’s wrong?”

Stiles shuffled his feet, kneading his hands and avoiding Peters gaze. 

“The bed is… high.”

The blush spreading over the pale cheeks of this seemingly little boy was endearing and he felt the corners of his mouth turn up. 

“I guess getting down won’t be the problem, but getting up?”

Stiles nodded, playing with the hem of his oversized shirt.

“And the toilet.”

Oh my. Overworking the shopping list he had already made, Peter cocked his head. 

“Well, Derek or I can definitely help you get on the bed. And tomorrow we can get one of these little stairs until then you have to ask for help.”

Stiles grimaced, the color on his cheeks getting darker. The thought of Derek or Peter holding him up while he peed… 

“I don’t wanna…”, he mumbled looking up to Peter through his lashes. 

“Not much we can do about it, right now. Would you prefer Derek or me helping you out?”

For a moment Stiles seemed to consider his options, gnawing on his bottom lip. He shrugged, then shooting a sudden and thoughtful glance at the bathroom door. 

“I’ma try myself!”

And before Peter could say anything, Stiles shot away and closed the door behind him with a bang. Peter rubbed his face with both hands. He kept track of the way Stiles behaved. More and more his speech, the way he held himself and the way he overall acted seemed to regress. Peter wondered if, at the end of the week – or maybe even sooner, they would have a full-on toddler to take care of. He just really – really! – hoped, Stiles did not unlearn how to use the toilet. As soon as he was back to his 23-year-old, snarky self, he would never forgive them for diapers or pull-ups. Shaking his head Peter focused his hearing on the little boy next door, listened to him mumble and heard the plastic of the toilet seat creaking.

“If you brain yourself, I am going to be pissed, Stiles!”

He heard a soft giggle and soon enough the telltale splatter of some sort of liquid hitting the toilet bowl. 

“Tell me when you are done, you need to wash your hands.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the sullen answer came. “I am done!”

Peter opened the bathroom door, ready to face the chaos but – was positively surprised. Instead of urine everywhere, the little monster had used the different magazines Isaac had stacked under the sink, to build himself a little step. 

“I never thought Isaacs obsession with interior design and fashion would pay out that way.”  
Stiles giggled, obviously proud and with a flushed face.

“Now hands! Hold me up!”

“Bossy.”

Stiles just grinned and stuck out his tongue, before making grabby hands and bobbing up and down. Peter grabbed him by the waist and held him up to the sink, watching in the mirror how Stiles turned on the water with a look of fierce concentration on his face and his tongue peeking out. Adorable.

“Soap, Stiles.”

“Yeeeeees. ‘m not a dummy!”

Smirking a bit, he kept watching Stiles until the boy started to wriggle in his grip. 

“Down!”

“Aye, aye captain.”

Again, that soft little giggle and Peter felt warmth bloom in his chest. No matter how all of that played out – Peter was fucked six ways to Sunday. 

“Peter?”

“Hm?”

He was tucking Stiles in, pushing the blanket down a bit and trying to make sure the boy was as centered on the bed as possible, hoping he wouldn’t fall out – with this size and the height of the bed, the risk of an injury was real. 

“I have no things.”

Peter nodded solemnly and sat on the edge of the mattress. 

“That’s why we’re going shopping tomorrow. We’ll get you some nice clothes and pajamas, a little step for the bathroom, some things to keep you busy, while we’re looking for a way to help you…”

“Can I get soap?”

Peter blinked.

“….soap?”

“Foamy soap! It has a frog on it, but it’s purple and it smiles and when you push it there’s bubbles, not just soap! It’s super cool and the tv said it smells like apples and-“

With a chuckle Peter nodded, pushing back some of the floppy hair that had fallen into Stiles face.

“Of course. Who am I to deny you something as important as foamy apple-soap.”

“Frosh soap, silly!”, Stiles giggled. Then a frown showed up on his face and with small furrowed brows he looked at the blanket. “Peter…?”

“Yes sweetheart?”

“I… I feel like I am…”

“Hm?”

Stiles was quiet for a moment, before looking up to Peter with wet eyes. 

“I think I am actually becoming a kid, Peter.”, the fear in Stiles voice was evident and with a sigh, he caressed the little one's head.

“Do you trust us Stiles? Derek and me, your dad and the rest of the pack?”

Stiles shily nodded, watching Peter out of his big eyes.

“Then trust us to take care of you, while we’re finding a way to get you all grown-up again, alright? We won’t let anything happen to you.”

Again the boy nodded, before letting out a long breath and snuggling deeper under the covers. 

“Can you leave the light on…?”

“Of course.”, Peter smiled. “Sleep well Stiles. If anything is wrong, just shout and we’ll hear you.”

“Okay. ‘night.”

With a heavy heart, Peter turned on the two bedside lamps and pushed the button for the overhead off. 

“Want me to leave the door open?”

Stiles seemed to think about it before he slowly shook his head. The creeping fear of an ajar door was still more than present in him. 

“Alright. See you tomorrow.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“Always darling. Sweet dreams.”

Sighing softly to himself he went to his own room next door. And if he took his time to shower and change into something more comfortable, that didn’t mean anything. And that he laid awake until the very early morning hours, his hearing focused on the calm, steady heartbeat next door, that was no one's business but his own. 

Peter wasn’t sure when and how he actually fell asleep, but one thing he was sure of – he didn’t get a whole lot of sleep before a soft tugging on his blanket woke him up again. At first, he was confused. Then he sensed the fast heartbeat next to his bed, opened his eyes and turned around. There, next to his bed, stood Stiles, clutching one of the decorative throw pillows against his chest and with suspiciously shining eyes.

“What’s wrong darling?”, he asked groggily, blinking in the dim light of the early morning. “Can’t sleep anymore?”

Stiles shook his head, sniffling quietly. 

“Had a bad dream. Can I… can I sleep here?”

Peter was dazzled for a moment, but then he nodded, pulled his blanket to the side and grabbed Stiles under his arms. The boy never had been heavy, but right now in the body of a four-year-old, lifting him up felt like he weighed literally nothing. Stiles didn’t speak, just wriggled under the covers, snuggling up close to Peters chest and closed his eyes, throw pillow still in his arms. 

“Thank you, Peter.”

“You’re welcome little one.”

The soft weight of the little boy against his chest, the warmth and the steadying heartbeat and breath lulled Peter back to sleep surprisingly fast.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the love :D   
> If you have any kind of tags or warnings I should put in, feel free to leave a comment or talk to me on my tumblr: nefariousalpha :)

“Peter?”

Something poked his face. 

“Peeeter?”

Was that a finger in his ear?

“Peter!”

Feeling how someone pinched his nose shut, Peter shot up and looked in the mischievous face of Stiles, that apparently tried to suppress his giggles. 

“It’s time to get up, Peter. I am hungry!”

“You’re a menace.”, Peter grumbled, grabbed the boy and threw him on his back, listening to the breathless snickering. With a mock growl, he started to attack the boy, tickling him and pretending to nibble on his exposed shoulder. The laughing was worth the shrieking that made his ears ring and the knee to the groin though. 

“Alright, you little monster.”, Peter huffed, finally looking at the toddlers red face and the laughing tears in his eyes. “Time to brush your teeth and get breakfast. You need the toilet before?”

“No, I was already!”

Peter wondered how deeply he must have slept to not feel Stiles getting out of bed, to the bathroom, peeing, hopefully washing his hands and then getting back to bed.

“Alright, then off you go. In the top drawer must be a spare toothbrush and some toothpaste.”

Stiles nodded, scrambling away and carefully sliding down the side of the bed. Without much prompting, he waddled to the bathroom, pushing the stack of magazines a bit to the side, so he could reach the drawer more comfortably and began rummaging through it, until he found the toothbrush. Peter sat up, watching how the little boy started brushing his teeth and suppress a laugh when the first reaction to the toothpaste was a grimace. 

“Yuck. It’s spicy!”

He looked at Peter reproachfully and with a placating hand gesture, Peter got up.

“I am sorry, little one, but currently this is the only one we have. We’ll get you something tastier later, alright?”

Stiles huffed, spitting out the foam and grabbing the small plastic cup sitting on the side of the sink, before filling it with a bit of water.

“Want to see me gurgle?”

“Please don’t.”

“I will though! People in movies do it!”

Before Peter could say anything else Stiles had taken a gulp out of the cup, leaned back his head and started gurgling. Only that he obviously lacked the skill, because only seconds later he pretty much resembled a fountain, before starting to cough and spitting the rest of the water on the mirror. Peter sighed deeply, before getting closer and fixing Stiles with a firm gaze. The boy blinked up to him, acting coy and bashful, but Peter was having none of it. 

“Since you’re done with oral hygiene, you can take one of the towels and clean up the mess you made on the floor.”

“But-“

“You made the mess Stiles, you clean it up.”

With a grumble Stiles hopped off of the magazines, grabbing one of the towels and starting to mop up the water, while Peter himself cleaned the mirror before brushing his own teeth. 

“Peter?”, Stiles piped up softly, sounding strangely shy and vulnerable. “Are you mad?”

Peter turned around and took a look at the boy in front of him, again anxiously playing with the hem of his shirt. He had never seen Stiles acting like that, worried and almost scared of what someone else might think about him. The boy always had been excitable, prone to minor ‘accidents’, brash and loud – and never, not once, had Peter experienced Stiles being (he took a careful whiff) …ashamed?

“I am not angry, little one. A bit annoyed maybe, but we all make mistakes.”, he said gently.

“And you’re really not mad? I don’t have to leave?”

Confused Peter frowned and sank to his knees, taking Stiles hands and making sure the boy looked at him. 

“I am really not mad and you never have to leave unless you want to, alright?”

The boy mustered him carefully, before slowly nodding and leaning forward against Peters chest. Peter put his arms around the small body, stroking Stiles back, while the boy tried to wiggle and press even closer as if he was trying to sink into him.

“Why would you think you have to leave, darling?”

Stiles shrugged, but Peter waited him out. It only took a few moments before Stiles warm breath caressed his neck and the little boy started talking again.

“Back … when I was little for real after Mommy left… when Dad got mad, he said … he said, that he would send me away to my uncle. Or to some school. And that I was too much for him alone. That I needed to grow up and behave.”

Internally Peter cursed, holding Stiles close and pressing a kiss on his hair. He liked and respected John in his role as the local Sheriff, but with every passing day, he lost respect for the man himself.

“You’re fine the way you are, Stiles. Right now you’re a little boy and you’re allowed to behave exactly like one, alright? We won’t get mad and we won’t ever send you away. We care about you a whole lot.”

Stiles sniffled and nodded slowly. 

“I can stay with you…?”

Peter nodded, not able to speak more around the lump in his throat. He would take care of Stiles, no matter his age or physical size. He would make sure that he would feel loved and cherished and taken care of if it was the last thing he’d do.

Since the day had already begun emotional, Peter didn’t bother much with potential drama and plowed through breakfast with Stiles. The big question right now was how he would manage to get the toddler to a Macys or some other store that sold acceptable children's clothing, when everything the little one had to wear, was an oversized shirt and pants. Hell, he looked like a drowned rat in them without being wet. 

“Derek, do you have any idea where-“

“To get clothes? I already called around with the pack. Apparently Jackson's parents still have some of his old clothing and he is willing to at least lend Stiles one outfit for the day.”

The sigh in the alpha's voice was noticeable and Stiles, sitting at the kitchen island scrunched up his face. 

“’s gonna be clean, right? I don’t wanna smell like jackass!”

“Language!”

Peter was surprised about the echo – then he realized that Derek had spoken at the same time as he did. With a huff, he rubbed his face before taking another sip of his coffee. Stiles simply pursed his lips, playing with the last bits of cereal floating in his bowl full of milk. 

“I promise I will sniff them extra hard to make sure they don’t stink, alright?”

Stiles nodded, seemingly placated for the moment, humming under his breath but so out of tune that Peter couldn’t recognize the melody.

“And even if they smell a bit like Jackson, we’re getting you new stuff immediately, so you have your own things.”

“Okay.”

“And Stiles?”

“Yeah?”

“As long as we are in town, we will have to say that you’re my … hm. Godchild?”, he added, looking at Derek who shrugged. 

“Sounds real enough, I suppose. As long as you don’t parade Stiles around town, everything should go swimmingly. Just try to avoid people that might have known Stiles as a kid. That could get real awkward real fast.”

Peter had to agree. One way or another there were going to be rumors floating around, he just didn’t want them to be about Stiles as a grown-up. He still looked like himself, just …you know, smaller. People starting to think about Stiles being a teenage-dad would bring all sorts of problems. 

After breakfast Peter parked Stiles in front of the tv – the little boy was immediately engrossed in some cartoons that he apparently didn’t know yet – and since they had no actual toys to entertain the boy, this would have to do for now. 

“Do you think Deaton has made any progress yet?”, Derek whispered to not disturb Stiles, sitting wide-eyed in front of the tv. “I read a bit about the Fae last night, and the overall consensus is that every potential change of the gifted person will only recede when the initial wish is granted or the change no longer needed.”

Peter nodded solemnly. That was the only knowledge he had of Fae-gifts too, but it wasn’t exactly something with a pinpointed time-frame they could work with.   
Stiles job at the nursery was no big problem, his shop still not even in it’s baby-shoes but, he had to admit, he worried none the less. What if Stiles kept regressing further and further, with less and less of his adult-self peeking through? If- no. When! he changed backed to being an adult, would he have changed massively? How would things progress? And while Peter had an abstract idea of what Stiles deepest need was, he still couldn’t be sure what the actual gift to Stiles was.

Before he could work himself into an anxious mess, he heard a car pulling up to the house and perked up. He really hoped it was Jackson and that he would refrain from his usual comments about Stiles – otherwise, today might be the day Peter truly ripped his throat out. The front door opened and Stiles threw a look over his shoulder to make out where the noise had come from, but when he realized it was Jackson, his attention zeroed back in on the tv. 

“Hey.”

“Hey, Jackson.”

Derek mustered Jackson. Something was different and even Peter could tell Jackson didn’t seem to be his usual asshole-self. 

“It’s kind of freaky seeing Stiles like that.”, he finally mumbled, his gaze locked on the younger boy. He only got to know Stiles in elementary school, so when Stiles was a bit older than he was now, but the resemblance was uncanny. He had thought long about what exactly made Stiles need to be a child again, and from the rumors and the things he actually knew about his packmate, he felt bad. Bad for being a bully and tormenting the only slightly younger kid than him for years, until the more or less easy camaraderie of being pack made the interactions with each other easier. 

“I brought some of my clothes. They’re all washed and my mom had them vacuum-packed and stuffed into a box in the attic.”

Peters nods and takes the small bag Jackson hands him. Inside are two shirts, one blue, one red, one pair of jeans, a pair of shorts, a single piece of underwear and some sandals. 

“I thought it’s relatively warm outside.”, Jackson shrugged, again looking at Stiles. “And Derek said you want to take him shopping as soon as possible.”

“Definitely. We need some stuff so he can get around – for example, it’s just not safe for him to keep using Isaacs fashion magazines as a step to reach the toilet or the sink. 

Jackson stared a second and then started to laugh.

“Are you laughing about me?”

Three heads turned to the toddler standing in front of them, arms crossed across his slender chest and a furious expression on his face. Before Derek or Peter could say something, Jackson went into a crouch and shook his head, still grinning. 

“No, Stiles. I think you finally found the only true use of Isaacs insane collection.”

For a moment the boy seemed to contemplate if Jackson was making fun of him – but seemed to come to the conclusion, that Jackson didn’t laugh ABOUT him. 

“Okay. Want to watch cartoons? Peter needs coffee or he’s grumpy and if he takes me shopping I don’t want him to be grumpy, so I am watching tv even though dad used to say that it rots my brain but –“

While Stiles rambled on he grabbed Jacksons hand and started pulling him towards the couch. Flabbergasted Jackson didn’t have it in him to refuse and let himself be maneuvered however the toddler wanted – and Derek and Peter did their best to keep their laughter quiet. 

“I mean, he’s not wrong.”, Derek finally managed to say, after the first bout of silent laughter had ebbed off. “You are one grumpy motherfucker if you don’t get your caffeine.”

“Sure, gang up on the one responsible adult in the house. All fine and dandy.”, Peter grumbled, picking up his cup and draining it, before demonstratively pouring himself another coffee. 

Derek meanwhile couldn’t help his snort, before he shook his head and sat down on one of the barstools at the island. 

“You and responsible?”

Peter nodded, a haughty expression on his face, before taking a sip of his coffee. 

“Of course. You don’t want to call yourself responsible, do you?”

Derek grinned and shrugged his shoulders, before grabbing one of the cookies, that laid on a serving platter. Stiles had demanded one earlier – and neither he nor Peter could resist the Stilinski-puppy-eyes. Scott had nothing on kid-Stiles.

“Think he’s going to be okay?”, Derek mumbled around some crumbs, watching how Stiles animatedly seemed to explain to Jackson what had happened so far. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Peter thoughtfully nodding.

“I hope so. So far we’ve managed everything the world threw at us, haven’t we? And the magic changing him wasn’t cast with malicious intent. Maybe it will just run its course.”

“True.”, Derek said. 

It was half-past ten and Peter stood at the bottom of the stairs, checking if they had everything. It took more than twenty minutes to wrestle Stiles – who insisted he could dress himself – actually in the clothes provided by Jackson.  
Now he had found another problem.

“Derek.”

“Hm?”

“We don’t have a booster seat.”

“And?”

“Stiles is four.”

“And?”

“I may know that I won’t drive the car into a ditch, but if anyone sees a four-year-old without a booster seat in the back of a car, I’ll have the police tail my ass faster than I can say “I am sorry.”.”

His nephew sat on the couch, a book in his hands, and currently looking contemplating. 

“I … guess.”

“And what the fuck am I doing now, Alpha mine?”

Derek shrugged his shoulders helplessly, before grabbing his phone and shooting a text in the pack-group chat. 

“We’ll have to see if one of them has a seat like that somewhere laying around – until then we either have to wait or you go out yourself to get one and then come back?”

Peter huffed, looking at the ceiling and begging any possibly listening entities to answer to his prayers. Having to care for a toddler itself wasn’t something Peter minded – quite the opposite – but taking care of a toddler-sized Stiles, who now and then had some adulting moments, without any of the things necessary to take care of him was frustrating.

“Have you thought about a story why Stiles is staying with you?”

Peter nodded carefully, raking his hands through his head. 

“Godchild, parents died in house fire.”, both men went silent for a moment. “Would explain why we need pretty much everything for him.”

“True.”

With a sigh, Peter listened to Stiles who was still admiring himself in the big mirror, that hung in the hallway.

“Never took him for a narcissist.”, mumbled Derek. Without further ado, Stiles traipsed in, hands on his hips and looking smug. 

“You’ve never been as cute as me, sourwolf.”

Derek just stared at him while Peter started to guffaw.

“He’s not wrong, Derek. You always had your angry caterpillar eyebrows, the frown, and the dumbo ears.”

“Shut up!”

The tips of Dereks ears flushed red and with a little grumble, he continued to read. 

“When are we going shopping?”, Stiles pulled on the hem of Peters shirt. “I am bored.”

Peter grabbed Stiles under his arms and lifted him up, settling him to rest on his hips.

“Well, you’re a bit too small to just sit in a car – so we have to wait on the answers of the pack if one of them has a booster seat somewhere.”

Stiles was quiet for a moment, before he huffed, a defiant glint in his eyes. Peter suspected the worst. 

“I don’t want a booster seat, Peter.”

He had crossed his arms and looked like the stereotypical angry-kid, minus the stomping his foot. Though, Peter thought, that was most likely due to the fact, that he still was perched on Peters hip.

“Nothing we can do about it, pup.”, he said.

“But I don’t want one!”

His voice started getting louder and Peter winced, setting Stiles back down on the floor, only to be met with a furious toddler, still with crossed arms and – AHA! - stomping his foot.

“Stiles, you’re currently in the body of a four-year-old boy – if we don’t want you taken away by child services, we’ll have to get a booster seat to drive.”

“I DON’T WANNA!”, he stomped again, his face getting redder and redder. “I’M A BIG BOY! I DON’ NEED A SEAT!”

Angry tears were gathering in Stiles eyes and with a sigh, Peter crouched down and put his hands on Stiles shoulders. 

“If you want to get clothes and toys and a little step for the toilet, we’ll need to go shopping in town. It’s too far to walk, so we need to drive. And for you to be safe while driving, we need a booster seat. No way around it, pup.”

Stiles started to trash, hitting Peter square in the face, kicking and frustratedly shrieking. Peter saw Derek out of the corner of his eye wincing and with a stern expression on his face he grabbed Stiles shoulder, walked across the room, grabbing a chair on the way with his free hand and positioning it in the corner. 

“Sit.”

“I DON’T-“

“I said ‘sit’, Stiles. Your behavior right now is atrocious and my first instinct right now would be to put you over my knee and spank you! Sit down, ten minutes. You overstepped.”

Silent and with pure hatred and betrayal in his eyes, Stiles sat down, facing the wall and quietly sniffling and mumbling. Peter sighed heavily and sat down on the edge of the couch. Derek looked at him, his eyebrows raised and with a soft shrug, Peter kept observing the pouting boy. His heart rate had started to settle and while he smelled of misery, he was calming down. From the salty tang in the air, it was clear, that the boy was full-on crying now. 

“Melissa texted me. She still has Scotts booster in the attic, so Scotts going to bring it over in about fifteen minutes.”

Peter nodded, closing his eyes for a second. He really hoped the time out worked for now – spanking was something he wanted to do with adult-Stiles… 

“Peter?”

He looked up, seeing Stiles looking at him over his shoulder, his eyes big and still shining with tears. The toddlers voice was quiet and calm and Peter stood up. With measured steps he came closer, crouched in front of Stiles and met his gaze.

“Are the ten minutes over…?”

Peter nodded. 

“Are you calmed down?”

Stiles just looked at him and nodded, but suddenly another sob escaped him and he threw himself at Peter. 

“I’m sorry! I am not bad! I am good. I didn’t mean it. Please don’t be angry with me, Peter, I’m be better!”

Softly shushing Peter stroked Stiles back, holding him close and scenting the boy in the meanwhile. 

“I am not angry Stiles, but there are rules.”

“I know…”

“And if you misbehave you get a time-out, alright?”

Stiles nodded, clinging even harder to Peter. 

“You still like me?”

Peters heart felt like it was breaking and breathing a kiss on Stiles hair he nodded.

“Always, pup. I may be angry or disappointed sometimes and if you misbehave, you’re going to face the consequences, but I will always like you, okay?”

“Okay.”, the boy snuffled, still looking wary and afraid. 

Hell, Stiles sounded so small and vulnerable. Peter definitely wasn’t a therapist, but even he could see the abandonment-issues wrecking the boy. Biting the inside of his cheek and trying to calm down the fury rising up in him, the pure hate he currently felt for John, he decided to distract Stiles. Hopefully, it would work good enough for the tension and worry to dissipate.

“Scotts coming over soon to bring a seat and after we’re going shopping. Will you behave when we’re out and about?”

“Promise!”, a small smile showed up on Stiles face and with a nod, Peter caressed Stiles cheek before getting up.

For a toddler, Stiles had an incredible hearing – and as soon as Scott had arrived with his moms car and the booster seat in the back, Stiles shot to the door, bouncing up and down and giggling softly. 

“Excited, pup?”

“It’s Scott! Of course, I am excited!”

Derek grinned when Peter grimaced. He had to admit he wondered. Even though he hadn’t talked to Peter openly about it, he got the feeling that Stiles was regressing more and more, the times where he talked and acted like a toddler getting more frequent, then the suddenly rare feeling adult-moments, where Stiles seemed to be aware of the actual situation. Watching Peter watch Stiles was an… experience.  
Growing up with Peter, he knew the man to be mischievous, manipulating and overall fun. The best uncle ever, more like a big brother and best friend. That was before his mom became more and more hostile with Peter, before Paige died because Derek had misunderstood Peter and made a mistake, before… Kate. He didn’t recognize his uncle in the crazed Alpha running through town, nor did he resemble himself after he came back from the dead. Now though? With the soft smile, the strict attitude and the contenthappycaring scent emitting from him? 

‘Somehow’, he thought. ‘Somehow this gift is as much for him, as it is for Stiles.’

The moment the door opened Stiles excitement and joy made any kind of rational thinking impossible. He was bobbing up and down again and as soon as he saw his brother from another mother he jumped him.

“Scottyscottyscottyscotty!!”

Scott laughed with a helpless look to Derek and Peter, before ruffling Stiles hair.

“I got the seat on the porch so you can put him where you want him.”, he said aimed at Peter, trying to contain the giggling child clutching his leg. 

“You’re so big! Why are you so big Scott? Scott? Why are you so tall?”

Confusion, then a muted kind of fear took hold of the wolves. Scott swallowed thickly before crouching down to Stiles level and looking into his curious eyes. 

“Buddy, you… the Fae gave you a gift, remember? They made you around four again, but you’re as old as me.”

Stiles scrunched up his nose, contemplating and looking a bit scared himself now.

“O-Of course. I ‘member. ‘s still weird that you’re so big.”

Scott knew deflection when he saw it and biting his tongue he forced a smile on his face, before standing up, throwing a meaningful look to Derek and Peter and turning to the door.

“I need to get to the clinic, Deaton’s waiting for me. He said he might have found something. A contact of him in the north encountered the Fae more than once, studied them or something. Maybe we can get some useful information out of that and Stiles …”

It seemed as if Stiles had a million and one questions, but the earlier reaction of Scott seemed to have spooked him – that and the fact that Scott seemed ready to bolt out of the door, just to get away from him.

“Oh. Okay…? See you later?”

Scott nodded carefully before waving to the others and leaving. Derek and Peter just looked at each other, insecurity and thoughtfulness in the same measurements on their faces. Did Stiles really start to forget? And what the fuck was up with Scott?

“Peter? Can we go shopping now?” 

Again the little boy tucked on the hem of his shirt and with a slight huff, Peter nodded, grabbing his wallet and keys before raising his brows and nodding to the door.

“You remember which car is mine?”

“Of course I do, creeperwolf.”, a baffled Stiles answered, before storming out of the front door and on the porch. At least the boy had the sense of mind to hold on to the railing when he started going down the few steps, instead of barreling down ass over teakettle. 

Peter grabbed the booster seat, a muted denim blue with …were that dinosaurs? Shaking his head he made his way to the car, watching Stiles as he pulled faces in the reflection of the car varnish. The booster seat itself was easy enough to put in. Set it down, pull the seatbelt meant for the middle through, put the kid on it, seatbelt on and ready to go. Stiles seemed nervous, starting to glance at the seat after Peter started to put it in.

“Are they dinos?”, he mumbled. “I like dinos.”

“They are, indeed, dinosaurs.” 

Stiles smiled and let Peter lift him up and into the seat. He obviously didn’t like to be in the back of the car, but right now Peter didn’t care. The passenger seat in the front was dangerous for any small person – even if they were sitting on a booster seat.   
As soon as the seatbelt was snug, Stiles wriggled on the seat before exclaiming: “All safe!”  
With a chuckle, Peter made his way to the front, anxious to finally get out of the house for a bit. He wondered how Stiles energy level would be. Could he take him on hikes? Or at least walks? For how long? Deep in thought, Peter started the car, reversed out of the driveway and onto the more path than street that lead from the packhouse to the main road. As soon as they started moving Stiles raised his arms and whooped. With a full-blown laugh Peter turned up the radio a bit and watched Stiles in the rearview mirror.

“Can I drive to?”

“Not as long as you can’t reach the pedals, the stick, and the steering wheel.”

“But when I am big Stiles, I drive, right?”, something contemplating was in Stiles voice and a look in the mirror showed the toddler looking focused and unsure.

“Yes. You drive a blue jeep. I think it belonged to-“

“My momma.”, Stiles mumbled. “I ‘member her. But she didn’t ‘member me.”

Peters knuckles turned white, gripping the steering wheel and trying to control his breathing.

“From what I know she couldn’t help it.”, he carefully explained. “But we won’t ever forget you, pup, trust me.”

Stiles leaned back, face turned to the window and watching the trees pass by. 

“Okay. I trust you.”

Peter felt the lump in his throat, swallowed thickly and put his focus back on driving. He couldn’t shake the feeling, that adult Stiles didn’t feel the same way as the toddler on the back seat. After all, who would really trust Peter…?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all :)  
> Can't promise regular updates, sadly.   
> Haven't gotten to editing the rest of the story, but I'll try my best!   
> Hope you like it!

Peter drove out of Beacon Hills – the chance of someone recognizing toddler Stiles was too high – and to the next bigger town over. In Peters eyes, after traveling for a big part of his adolescence, the town didn’t really qualify as one. As a young adult, he had backpacked through Europe, had visited Asia and Russia, seen most metropoles the world had to offer. Beacon Hills? It had a few locally owned stores, a mall, a Starbucks and about two grocery stores. A town. Hah. Rome was a town. Berlin was a town. Beacon Hills was nothing more than a village, that misread a memo about its town-status. 

“Are we there yet?”

Peter rolled his eyes. He had no idea how often Stiles had asked this exact question since they left the “Beacon Hills” sign behind them, but slowly but surely, he started to get annoyed – never a good thing. While Peter could handle little kids, had for most of his life in one way or another, his temper wasn’t the calmest. When the mall came in sight, Peter let out a visible breath of relief. 

“Just a moment, pup. I’ll have to look for a parking spot.”

“Okay.”

Peter pulled up to the mall – probably his best bet to find actual clothes for children and looking at the sign of the mall, they apparently had a Macys, an H&M and a general kids store. If they didn’t find everything they needed here, a trip to Toys’r’ us would be necessary. And while Peter may not be a religious person, he PRAYED that he could avoid that hellhole. Even with Stiles as an adult it would’ve most likely been too much input for the ADHD-riddled young adult, he didn’t want to experience what it would be like to step foot inside that thing with a toddler in tow. 

“You remember the things we need?”, he asked as soon as the car came to a halt and the motor was off. Stiles excitedly nodded.

“Yes! We need clothes and a step and frog soap and toys and coloring books and crayons and pens and a plushie and lego and a to- …toofbrush and …and …”

Peter chuckled.

“I don’t remember coloring stuff and toys, pup, but I think it won’t hurt to spoil you a bit. We also need a seat!”

“I want one with wolfies!”

Getting out of the car Peter stretched, wondering if there even was such a thing as booster seats with …wolves.   
‘Thank every known deity, I am loaded.’   
He already knew that he would have trouble to say no to Stiles when the little boy wanted something – and he already packed his credit card. Shaking his head at himself he opened the backdoor of the car, looking at a wriggling Stiles that tried to get out of the seatbelt. He cleared his throat and Stiles froze before slowly turning around and looking up to him.

“Um.”

“Okay, little one. Some ground rules. No. 1 you say what you want calmly and with words.”, Stiles nodded, biting his bottom lip. He didn’t like the tantrum he threw either. “No. 2 you wait until the car stops, stay still and let me take off the seatbelt.”

“But-“

“No but, pup.”

Stiles pouted but nodded slowly. 

“No. 3, no matter what’s wrong, if you need something, you tell me immediately. And no. 4 – the last one for now – you keep holding my hand and if we’re not holding hands for whatever reason you’re to stay with me and/or in sight. Got it?”

Stiles nodded earnestly now, bobbing up and down.

“Okay, Peter. Let’s gooo!”

Chuckling Peter opened the seatbelt fully, catching Stiles before he fell out of the car and with the tiny toddler arms around his neck, he sighed. He felt content, for fuck's sake. Taking a deep breath and checking that everything was alright with the little boy in his arms he closed the car door, locked it with a press of a button and put the keys in his back pocket.

“Walking or carrying, pup?”

“Carry! An’ why do you call me pup? I’m not a puppy! Whoof!” 

Laughing Peter shifted Stiles to his hip before walking toward the mall entrance.

“You know Derek and I and most of the pack are wolves, right?”

“Yep!”

“Well, and little wolves are called cubs or pups. So, you’re my pup now.”

Stiles stared at him for a moment, before clinging tighter to him and rubbing his soft cheek against his stubbled jaw.

“I’m yours?”, he finally asked quietly, a big smile on his face. 

Peter nodded, smiling himself and pressing a kiss on Stiles forehead. The boy blushed and Peter grinned. 

“Now let’s get you your own things – and no barking, alright? You said yourself you’re no puppy.”

Stiles giggled but nodded, turning his head a bit to see better where they were walking. His heartbeat was steady and surprisingly calm. Peter couldn’t remember if he ever smelled Stiles being content and happy like that. With a small sigh, he stepped through the automatic doors, ready to face the fray. 

To be perfectly honest, Peter hadn’t been in a mall since his teenage years. He tended to have expensive taste and the things he truly wanted for himself usually weren’t found in strip-mall-stores. He had to admit, that it was convenient, having so many stores in one place – but also the smells and sounds and bustling crowds-. Biting his tongue, he pushed through the masses, careful that no one touched Stiles and only when they left the lobby and reached the escalators, Peter breathed a little easier. Why the fuck did so many people need to go shopping before noon on a regular workday!? Stiles, however, was turning his head so much and so fast that Peter was reminded of the exorcist movie. Everything seemed to be interesting and exciting and with wide-eyed wonder, Stiles took in his surroundings. He didn’t seem to mind the busyness of it all, more like reveled in it. 

“Ready for the first store, pup?”

“Yes Peter!”, the little boy grinned, pointing to the clothing store. “That one?”

“That one.”, Peter answered. 

The air in the store felt stale and stifling, but right now Peter was a man on a mission. Kids clothes. Couldn’t be that hard, right?   
As soon as his eyes landed on the kids’ section he took off, ignoring the quiet coos he heard coming from a small group of women, looking at leopard-print leggings. Peter shuddered, dodging people here and there that seemed a bit too friendly and likely to talk to him. He arrived at the first clothing racks for children and took a breath. He could do this.

He could not do this. After ten minutes he had put Stiles down who was slowly getting grumpy, wanting to explore the store and Peter had obliged – with rule no. 4 in mind. Now he saw the little boy flitting from shelf to shelf, touching the shirts and pants and Peter? Peter tried to guess what kind of size Stiles was currently wearing. The tags in Jacksons old clothes had been cut out and were no help and trying different sized clothes until he found those that fit would most likely end in another tantrum – only that Peter wasn’t sure if it would be Stiles’ or his. 

“Excuse me?”, a velvety, feminine voice asked, pulling Peter out of his crisis. He was turning around, ready to scare the woman off, but when he laid eyes on her, he spotted the nametag on her collar. “Can I help you with anything?”

Peter stared until the saleswoman obviously started to get worried, then he took a deep breath.

“I never believed in any kind of god – but you’re the answer to my prayers right now.”

The woman chuckled nervously but with a smile on her face, shooting a contemplating look towards Stiles, that was still flitting from display to display.

“He yours? You seem a bit in trouble.”  
“Definitely trouble and no. I am taking care of my godchild. He’s four, the clothes he’s wearing have no size tag and I need to get him a whole wardrobe.”

Her eyes widened slightly, probably thinking that Stiles family was out of commission for whatever reason – and obviously excited. This store worked with provisions. 

“Well, if that’s the case – “ 

Her gaze flicked through the store again, until they landed on Stiles who had by now climbed on a low ottoman, pulling a face in one of the mirrors, that were scattered through the store. 

“Four, hm?” 

She looked at him, calculating and a second later she clapped in her hands.

“Alright. He’s a bit tall for his four years, so I suppose we should go with a 4, not a 4T. How about I get you a basket, you and your little one pick out clothes and try them, and as soon as the basket is full you call and I put it behind the counter until you’re finished? 

Peter nodded, slightly mystified about how the woman was able to estimate Stiles size from just a look but was ready to trust her judgment. Look at that. 

“Pup?”

The little boy shot up like a startled animal and with a grin, he scrambled off of the ottoman and traipsed back to Peter. 

“Yeah?”

“This lady was so kind as to help us with your clothing size. We can look around now – if you like something show me and we can make sure that it fits you, alright?”

Stiles clapped his hands excitedly and looked at the saleswoman.

“Thank you, lady!”

Sandra smiled, still looking thoughtful. 

Stiles though shot off again, coming to a halt in front of a shelf with – who would’ve guessed – avengers merch for kids. With a sigh, Peter nodded to the woman before walking up to Stiles.

“Peter, look! There’s Captn America!!”

“No Stiles, you don’t need another Hulk-sweater.”  
“No, Stiles. We already have the exact same pack of socks in the basket already.”  
“Stiles, put down that shoehorn – where even did you get that?!”

It took about two hours for Peter and Stiles to accumulate a whole toddler-wardrobe that would last at least two weeks, some extra goodies and some designer-stuff Peter simply couldn’t resist. Stiles had picked surprisingly cute stuff, footsie pajamas made of fluffy faux fur with bear-ears on them (he was upset to learn that they didn’t have wolf-version), little slippers formed like paws and a leather jacket that made him look like a mini James Dean. Overall Peter was more than happy with their purchase – and looking at the total and the bright-eyed grin on the saleswoman’s face (“Please, call me Sandra!”) it wasn’t just him.

“Okay, pup. We’re going to take these things to the car, afterward we’re getting the step and the seat.”

“And toys!”

Peter sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before taking Stiles hand in one and the countless bags with their purchases in the other. 

“And toys.”

While the clothes shopping went off without a hitch, Peter had to admit he dreaded entering the general kids' store. Stiles was excitable under normal circumstances, but now physically not yet used to his ADHD and with kidlike tendencies creeping up more constantly? Peter was more than relieved to know his credit card would be able to handle the possible outcome of this trip.  
Since he had officially reclaimed his identity a few years ago, Peter had reached out to some of his former contacts, getting back into his business. Finding, buying and reselling rare books and items, dabbling here and there in antiques. That he invested in the stock market and real estate didn’t hurt either and with the life insurance payout, he was golden. At least financially spoken.  
As soon as they had loaded the bags of the clothing store in the trunk of the car, Stiles was adamant in trying to pull him back into the mall. He didn’t forget that they still needed some stuff and even if he wasn’t overly happy with having to use a booster seat, he was more than excited to rummage through the toys and stuffed animals. 

“Come ooooon.”

“Stiles, behave.”

“But I want a woooooolf.”

The whining didn’t just agitate his eardrums but slowly but surely grated on his nerves. Still – the imagery of providing for Stiles with something as simple as toys and something to cuddle with filled him with a warmth he hadn’t felt in over a decade. He could vividly remember going toy shopping for Laura, Derek, and Cora – even if he usually tried to avoid taking them with him. Werwolf children were a challenge in public, especially when they were at an age still prone to tantrums and spontaneous changing.

“If they have a wolf, I will gladly get you one, Stiles. But for that, you need to stop whining.”

Stiles mimed zipping his mouth, a bright grin on his face and softly humming he held Peters hand. The face of the little boy was flushed with excitement and Peter couldn’t help but feeling like he was going to get a ton of cavities any moment now. The way through the lobby was, again, incredibly annoying – but as soon as they had reached the third floor, the noise seemed to lessen a bit and Peter could breathe easier. Stiles seemed to pick up on his mood and looked at him with fondness.

“Thank you for coming here with me. I know it’s not easy with the smell and the noise and stuff.”

He blushed a bit, trying to kick a candy wrapper away that laid on the floor in front of him. Peter huffed. 

“For you, always darling.”

The store itself was a visual atrocity. The colors clashed horribly, it looked like pure chaos and taking a deep breath to steel himself against the blinking lights of toys, the “I need to pee!”-exclamation of some kind of potty-doll and the shrieking of kids that now and then tore apart the calm he grabbed Stiles hand tighter and stepped in.

“No running away, Stiles. You’re staying right here with me, understood?”

Stiles nodded, bright-eyed and staring awed at the displayed toys. He looked damn adorable in the outfit Peter had put together from the clothes they bought, but Stiles didn’t seem to overly appreciate them. 

“Do you still know, what we need?”

“Bouncy balls!”

Before Peter could say anything, the little boy wanted to dart off – he was glad he kept holding on to the toddlers’ hand, before frowning at him. Fuck, this was going to get difficult. 

“Peter! Look!”

“I am looking pup. You need to stay with me, alright? I don’t want you to get lost or hurt.”

With a put off groan, Stiles nodded, before mumbling a quiet apology. 

“Good, so what do we need?”

The little boy looked like he was doing an “I need to pee”-dance, but Peter could scent the excitement and impatience. 

“A step and a seat and bed stuff and soap and t-toofstuff and toys and coloring stuff and a wolf and-“

With a chuckle, Peter shook his head.

“Fine. Let’s just grab a cart and look around, alright?”

Looking at the trunk of his car, Peter scratched his head. They didn’t buy THAT much stuff …did they? He had avoided looking at the total outcome of their little splurge, but with Stiles being so happy and excited Peter had got caught up in the flow of things and only now seemed to resurface of this … experience. Looking to the backseat and observing Stiles – already belted in on his fire truck red seat and a stuffed wolf in his arms, snoring softly – he had to smile. He was sure, that they didn’t need half of this stuff, but well. Maybe one day this ragtag pack would produce offspring and the unused things could still pose as presents.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay!  
> Trying to upload more chapters to catch up - right now I've got the time :D  
> So don't be surprised if there are a few chapters at once!

“Um. Peter?”

“Hm?”

Derek looked confused at the ton of bags Peter carried inside. He had put the still napping Stiles on their couch and no! He didn’t coo when the little boy refused to let go of “mini-Pete”, the wolf.

“Did you buy out the store?”, standing there with his arms crossed, a judgmental and kind of confused look on his face, Derek observed how Peter went back to the car to get the last of the bags. When he came back in, closing the door with a light kick behind him, Peter shook his head.

“Of course not.”

“Do we- I mean, does Stiles need all this?”

“I don’t think so. Braeden has gone already?”

Derek nodded, still flabbergasted but amused.

“And why, do tell, can’t I see the floor of the living room anymore?”

Peter shrugged, a faint blush on his face that Derek immediately picked up on. With a sly grin, he stepped closer.

“You couldn’t say no, could you?”

His uncle threw his hands up, before sinking to the floor and staring at the overflowing bags.

“I …. Could not. You should have seen him, Derek.”

He looked vulnerable, Derek thought. Vulnerable but … happy? With a smile, he sat on the floor across Peter and pulled one of the bags to himself.

“You should have made pictures.”, he simply stated, before he started to pull out different articles of clothing. “We should start unpacking. At least the clothes. I am just glad I refused to let Isaac use the closet and drawers in the spare room, or else we would have no place for all these things.”

Peter didn’t comment, but the grateful and soft look on his face told Derek enough.

“Okay. And before you ask – he chose the teddy-bear onesie himself.”

Derek guffawed when he found the mentioned thing. 

“I can’t wait to see him wear that. The girls will freak out.”

“Just the girls?”, Peter grinned. “I bet ten that Isaac will get out the camera and Scott won’t stop sniffling!”

“Deal.”

“Deal.”

After he and Derek had managed to transport all of Stiles's new clothes upstairs, Derek went back downstairs to have an eye on the little boy. Peter meanwhile tried to sort the mass of fabric into different categories. There were sweaters and shirts, pants and jeans, socks and undies, a few onesies and pajamas, some shoes… Most of the stuff fit into the drawer, but he made sure to put the leather jacket, two of the onesies and a small coat for colder weather onto the also newly purchased kid-sized hangers.   
To be fair, he had no idea if Stiles would need the coat. It was still may – and hopefully, he would be back to his adult self before the temperature dropped. But – better safe than sorry. Wait. He didn’t know if Stiles was going to slowly grow bigger over the next weeks or months. What if he bought all that stuff and he wouldn’t even be able to wear it? With a frustrated huff over their non- existent information about the situation they were in, he put the last pair of socks in the drawer and made the bed Stiles would be sleeping in.   
What was on it? The avengers. Stiles had seen it and almost started hyperventilating. Shaking his head, he pulled the new pillow cover over the pillow, shaking up the cover and opening the window for a moment, before making his way back down. From what he could hear, Stiles was still sleeping, but lighter than earlier and Derek was making a late lunch. 

“He didn’t stir once, but if he wants to sleep tonight, we should wake him.”, was the first thing Derek said when he saw Peter entering the kitchen. 

“Sandwiches?”, he simply asked, before walking to the couch and putting a hand on Stiles's shoulder. “Pup?”

Stiles snuffled, before he slowly opened his eyes, blinking and hugging the stuffed wolf closer.

“Whazzit?”

“Time to get up, little one. Derek made us some sandwiches and we still need to unpack your new things.”

Peter knew that mentioning the toys would send Stiles in a frenzy, but when the little body suddenly shot up, he still got startled.  
The sandwiches vanished from their plates as soon as Peter had lifted Stiles to sit on one of the chairs and put his portion in front of him. His excitement had got the better of him and looking like a hamster, Stiles barely managed to chew.

“Slow down, pup. You don’t want to upset your stomach, don’t you?”

“’ ma not get a tummy ache!”

Peter was relieved to realize that Stiles had swallowed before talking, but even with that, there were still crumbs spraying out of his mouth. Looking at Derek and rolling his eyes he grabbed one of the rags and started to clean around of Stiles plate. 

“Slow. Down.”

Stiles huffed and nodded, before taking another big bite of his sandwich. The wolves had no idea how so much food could fit in such a small mouth, but somehow Stiles managed to do it – the sandwich was gone in about four bites. 

“’m finished, Peter! Now toys?”

Chuckling softly Peter nodded, wiped his mouth on a napkin and critically looked Stiles over. Even though the boy had eaten like he was a starving, wild animal, he had miraculously managed to not make a mess of himself – and only a bit of mess on the table. 

“Fine. Go ahead.”

With an excited shriek, Stiles launched himself off the chair and ran over to the remaining bags. 

“Derek, Derek look! I got a step for the toilet!”

Derek nodded good-natured and smiled at the hysteric antics of the little boy, that started to pull out things at random. Everything he pulled out of the bags he had to show first Peter, then Derek and both took care of oohing and aahing at the right moments. It didn’t take more than ten minutes for the living room to look like a children's war zone. Everywhere one looked laid toys, crayons, colored pencils, coloring books, stuffed animals, puzzles and more. 

“You did buy the whole store, just admit it.”, mumbled Derek, while Stiles had grabbed a toy rocket ship and flew it through the room, making “Vrooooooom” noises.   
The little boy looked flushed and happy and slightly breathless and with a war cry, he suddenly jumped on Peter, letting the rocket drop out of his hands and grabbing Peter's face. Peter, that with an ‘oof’ had tumbled backward, looked confused and slightly flabbergasted, but Stiles didn’t pay it any mind and started to smooch every part of Peters's face he could get to.

“Thank you thank you thank you! So much! You’re the bestest!!” 

Giggling and throwing his arms around Peters neck, he closed his eyes, basking in the wolf's warmth and the musky smell Peter called his own. Derek wore a fond smile, watching Peter blush and hugging the boy closer. The older man closed his eyes too, enjoying the surprisingly still body of Stiles in his lap, while the little boy clung so tight to him it felt like he tried to become one with him through sheer will. 

“You alright, pup?”

Stiles nodded, silently, before changing his position and burrowing his face in the crook of Peters neck. Only the mild scent of sadness and melancholy told Peter, that something was definitively not alright.

“Stiles?”

“’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, little one. What’s wrong?”

Caressing the boys back und waiting him out seemed the best way to go. Stiles was never one that just blurted out his emotions – and Peter doubted that he would be any different as a toddler. So he started to hum tunelessly, watching Derek out of the corner of his eye starting to sort and move the toys upstairs. With a thankful nod and an answering smile, Peters focus was back solely on Stiles.

“Can’t remember if Dad ever took me shopping. He was always working and then mom got sick and … I know it wasn’t right what happened, but I feel ungrateful. I can’t remember someone ever doing something as nice as today for me, especially after mom died… and the months before.”

Peter nodded slowly, obviously recognizing this subject to be a very emotional wound left in his little boys' soul. 

“I think”, he finally started. “I think that this is why the Fae turned you little. I won’t comment on your father or your relationship. It’s not my place to do so and you know yourself that what happened and how it happened, wasn’t right.”

Stiles sniffled. 

“I say we use this opportunity and make the best of it. I’ll take care of you and you be a little boy for a while until the magic dissipates. I’ll do all the grown-up things and you do whatever you feel like doing, alright?”

“Really?”

Stiles lifted his head, looking at Peter with tears in his eyes and a hesitant, but hopeful glimmer in his eyes that bordered on awe. 

“Really. You’ll be my little boy. You don’t have to take care of anything. If you need anything you ask me. You enjoy this little trip as much as you can. You color and puzzle and play.”

“But the pack-“

“Will be more than able to handle things for a while on their own. They might not be as bright as you, but they’re not completely hopeless, I suppose.”, Peter mumbled with an eye roll and Stiles giggled. 

“Can … can I wear a onesie today? And we can color?”

With the pleading expression on Stiles face, Peter simply couldn’t say no – not that he would have.

“Of course. I think Derek has started getting your things upstairs. I don’t think you have seen your bed and the drawers yet, hm? We also need to put the step to the test, right?”

“Right! Then I can use the toilet like a big boy and not stand on ‘sacs mag’zines!!”

“That’s exactly right, pup. Want me to carry you or want to climb the stairs yourself?”

“Cliiiimb!”

And as if the emotional moment just right now didn’t happen at all Stiles jumped of Peter, wobbled to the stairs and started to climb it on all fours.  
Peters eyebrows rose higher and higher, especially when Stiles suddenly let out a mighty (for a four-year-old) roar and made his way up.

“I AM A LIOOOON.”

Ah. Alright. 

“And who am I?”

Stiles looked at him. 

“You’re a wolf silly.”

Peter huffed making his way to the stairs and following his wild little lion up to his room.

“Look out, Derek!”, he called with a grin to Stiles. “There’s a wild animal lose! Save yourself!”

Derek was just about finished with putting away the few things he had already gathered to take upstairs when he heard Peters warning – and suddenly something crashed into his legs and almost made him topple over. With a (manly) shriek, Derek threw himself on the freshly made bed, throwing his arms over his face, when Stiles started to climb all over him. 

“Oh no, please! Have mercy!”, he pressed out between some grunts, when Stiles bony limps pressed into more sensitive areas. “I’m sure I taste horrible!”

The giggling lion tried to wiggle his head under Dereks arms, still growling between fits of laughter until Derek gave up and tried to look scared.

“Please, please! I don’t want to be eaten!”

Stiles roared before rubbing his cheek against the stubbled jaw of a stunned looking Derek.

“Lions don’t eat wolfs, silly!”, the little boy chided, licking a wet stripe over Dereks cheek before cackling maniacally and jumping off of his alpha again. “Peter, I need to taste you too! Derek doesn’t taste yummy!!”

While Derek pondered the choice of words and refused to even think about other possible meanings (adult-Stiles saying something like that would’ve been probably disturbing enough, but toddler-Stiles? NOPE.), Stiles ran to Peter, who just had entered the room. Before he could put down two of the bags with Stiles new things OR think about what he just heard, the little boy grabbed his legs, trying to climb him like a tree.

“Woah, there. Slow down, pup. Let me put down your things first!”

“But Peteeeer-“

“So, there.”, Peter huffed before lifting Stiles up, so they could be eye to eye – and Stiles simply leaned forward, licking another broad, wet stripe across Peters cheeks. Derek in the background started to laugh about the flabbergasted look on his uncle's face, but Peter – with his eyebrows raised – looked at Stiles. So he meant THAT when he had said, that Derek wasn’t yummy?

“And, what’s the verdict, little one?”

“Ver- …what?”

“The outcome. Do I taste better than poopy Derek?”

Giggling Stiles nodded.

“You are poopy Derek!”

“No I am not!”, came the indignant shout of their alpha and Stiles full-on belly laughed now. 

Holding onto Peter, Stiles almost brushed Peters ear with his lips.

“I lied. He’s not poopy. He was scared though when the lion attacked him!”

Peter smirked and sat Stiles down on the edge of the bed. 

“Well, everybody would be scared if a lion suddenly jumped on them, pup.”

“I guess. Can we unpack my things? I want the onesie with the rockets and the stars and my socks and-“

“Calm down, Stiles.”, Derek smiled. “I am sure Peter will help you get changed while I get the rest of your things from downstairs. Alright?”

“Alright, Unca Derek!”

For a moment both wolves froze, looking at Stiles who, without noticing their shock, had started to admire his new bedsheets. Peter and Dereks gaze met and with a soft sigh, Peter shrugged his shoulders. 

“Do we need to worry…?”, Derek whispered, quiet enough so Stiles wouldn’t hear them. Peter shook his head, slightly smiling, before full on grinning.

“Well, UNCLE Derek, time to get your NEPHEWS things to his room, hm?”

Stiles giggled and patted Captain America's face, while Derek flipped HIS uncle the bird and went downstairs. 

“Okay, little one. The rockets and stars, right?”

Stiles attention was still on the bedsheets, now poking Hulks biceps while cooing. Sometimes Peter wondered what exactly went through the boys' head. He got up and walked to the drawer, stroking the soft fur of the teddybear onesie, he finally grabbed the wished-for pajamas and a pair of fluffy socks. He knew Stiles would most likely toe them off in about twenty minutes – it was simply too warm – but he couldn’t wait for the expression on the toddlers' face when he wiggled his little toes in the fuzzy socks. 

“Blue or yellow, Stiles?”

“Blue!”

He had finally seemed to greet every single one of the characters on his new sheets, now he had turned to face Peter, already trying to get the shirt over his head. 

“Easy there, pup. Let me help.”

Gently he pried Stiles fingers out of the fabric and pulled the shirt off of Stiles, before grabbing the hem of his pants and starting to pull. Stiles started wriggling, huffing and puffing and lifting his little butt and Peter couldn’t help but laugh.

“What? I am helpin’!”

“Of course you are pup. Look how far down the pants already are!”

Stiles stilled, looked down and started grinning, before taking up the wriggling again with new energy. It took longer that way, Peter had to admit, but it was fun. And wasn’t that odd?

“Okay, you little worm. Feet in the holes and I’ll pull them up.”

Stiles nodded, maneuvering his feet in the pajama pants and squeaking when Peter pulled them up in one go. 

“And arms up.”

Again Stiles listened, snuggling into the fabric. Suddenly he pushed his bare feet in Peters face, wriggling.

“Socks!”

“Yes, your majesty.”

Giggling and looking way too fond for a four-year-old, Stiles watched as Peter pulled the fuzzy fabric over his feet and with an expression of awe he wiggled his toes.   
Peter grinned.


	8. Chapter 8

The next days passed in a flurry of activity. Slowly but surely Peter and Derek allowed the rest of the pack to visit for longer than just a few minutes (Braeden was out of town for probably two months due to a new assignment) and – to nobody’s surprise – the pack was enamored with the tiny bundle of energy, flitting between their legs, expressing his joy over pancakes and toys and the cartoons on tv. The only person in the pack, that seemed to have a bit more trouble to handle Stiles was Scott. As the only person who truly knew Stiles as a kid, it was to some degree understandable, but after another visit from the true alpha, Peter was ready to castrate the little imbecile.   
Stiles wore his teddy onesie, hood pulled almost completely over his face, curled up on Peters lap and sniffling softly. At the beginning, Peter had contemplated if Stiles simply was tired after a day of activities with the others, but the scent he gave of corrected him fast. 

“What’s the wrong pup?”

Stiles rubbed the soft fabric of Peters Henley between his fingers, a thoughtful expression on his face and probably thinking hard about how to word his problems. Peter had to admit, he was incredibly proud of how Stiles managed to voice his concerns and worry and while he wasn’t sure if this was just Stiles as a person or fragments of adult-Stiles shining through, it didn’t diminish the soft warmth he felt spreading in his limbs, whenever Stiles confided in him.

“He doesn’t like me.”

The quiet words were muffled by the fact that the little boy had his face mushed against Peters chest, the fur of his hood and Peters body in the way. Peter furrowed his brows, softly caressing the boys back.

“Who, pup?”

“Scott.”, he mumbled and clung harder to Peter, pressing himself as close to the wolf as humanly possible. “He’s ‘sposed to be my brother, ‘ya know? ‘n he doesn’t even look at me.”

Peter kept quiet, replaying the last few interactions of those two in his head. Scott never stayed long, looked tense and conflicted… 

“Is it ‘cause I did bad things as a grownup?”

And with a sudden clarity, Peter started to understand. Looking at Stiles now, he was the picture of childlike innocence. He was soft and carefree and felt overall lighter than he did in the last few months, if not years. There were no bags under his eyes, no nervous twitches. Peter had gathered, that Scott and Stiles weren’t as close anymore – not after all the shit that went down (and he did include his descend into madness that one time), after Scott who finally had gotten the popularity and the girl, had ditched his supposedly best friend again and again, after the nogitsune had possessed his boy, doing horrible things wearing his face. Not after Scott McCall's view of the world shifted even more into black & white territory, while Stiles realized and accepted the shades of grey that made up their lives. Not after the incident with Donovan, where McCall had the gall to call Stiles a murderer. Not after Theo. 

“I don’t know, pup. You’re both grown up and think about some stuff differently.”

Stiles seemed to think about it. Peter in the meantime had some things to consider on his own. What WAS Scott's problem? Was he blind enough to not see, that Stiles hadn’t changed that much? That he still was his brother and best friend? That he still needed someone to take care of him now and then and wasn’t evil and twisted? Did he begrudge Stiles the happiness the little boy had shown in the last few days? Peter had never liked Scott. Hypocritical and disloyal. 

“It’s sad. And it’s not fair.”

Peter nodded, burrowing his face in the soft fake fur of Stiles hood. 

“I know pup. But the world is like that sometimes. But I’ll tell you one thing – no matter what happens, you’ll always have me, alright?”

Stiles wriggled a bit, so he could look at Peters face, a soft smile on his own. 

“You sure? Dad says imma lot.”

“Even if you are a lot, darling. Not that I think so.”

“Even if I am annoying or clingy?”

“You’re never annoying or clingy, pup. Never. I and Derek and the rest of the pack care about you a whole lot and while we sometimes aren’t in the mood for playing or have headaches or something like that, we never like you less. We love that you’re cuddly and full of energy.”

“Really…?”

“Really.”

Stiles looked him over critically, before launching himself at Peter and hugging him as if his life depends on it. 

“Love you Peter. You’re the best.”

Peter froze. Holding the boy closer, Peter closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting himself enjoy the warm body and the slightly sweeter smell Stiles had like this.

“Love you too, pup. Never doubt it.”

Stiles sighed happily before moving his lips to Peters ear.

“Want to know a secret?”

Peter smirked and nodded.

“With Scott it’s sad. But I don’t mind so much. ‘ya know why?”

Peter shook his head, intrigued and curious about where this conversation was going. 

“It’s because you are my favorite! You and Derek!” 

Stiles giggled softly, breathing his warm breath on Peters neck and the older wolf couldn’t help the slight burning in his eyes. He couldn’t remember the last time he was moved to …not tears, but close. 

“You’re my favorite too, pup.”

“I know.”

Full-on laughing the tension in the room snapped and Peter and Stiles rolled over the bed, laughing and tickling each other and in case of Peter? Firmly ignoring the butterflies in his stomach, fully knowing that he was kid-Stiles and his opinion – not the opinion of the witty, sarcastic asshole he had started to develop feelings for … 

Stiles may be only four years old, but even though Peter and Derek tried to keep him out of the loop, he knew something was up.  
It had started only a few days ago, with a suspicious call that left Derek looking pale and thoughtful and was currently at the status of Peter being grumpy. Whatever was happening, it involved a lot of whispering arguments, dirty looks were thrown around and the pack coming over even more, even if they came over late and stayed even later – almost always after Stiles bedtime. He was annoyed by that, but Peter kept telling him that it wasn’t something involving him. Still, when Stiles had crept out of bed to listen on the top of the stairs, trying to understand what Scott and Derek were arguing about, it had only taken a few moments until Peter stood in front of him, disappointment evident on his face.   
Stiles didn’t like that one bit.  
So, he had let Peter get him back into bed again, promised not to eavesdrop and try to sleep. But it was hard because he couldn’t fathom why they were shouting at each other and not in a fun way. The tension in the packhouse was tangible, not only while these “secret meetings” happened, but also afterward during the day. Derek and Peter were more snappish when they smiled it didn’t seem to reach their eyes and even the rest of the pack, like Erica and Jackson, seemed distracted when Stiles tried to engage them into some sort of game.   
His dad also showed up more frequently and not only to visit Stiles. Stiles had seen him having hushed conversations with his wolves, worry likes visible on his face and the angry vein on his head pulsating. It seemed like he wanted to shout too, but didn’t because he knew Stiles was in the house.   
A few hours later, Stiles took his father’s hand and pulled him upstairs “To show him one of the stuffed toys” Derek got him. Derek and Peter were talking in the kitchen and Stiles was curious. Maybe his Dad would tell him what was going on? Closing the door behind himself and his dad, Stiles looked up with furrowed brows.

“Dad?”

“Yeah, kiddo?”, John sighed and rubbed his face with both hands. “You didn’t actually take me up here to show me your toys, didn’t you?”

“No.”

“Even as a four-year-old, you’re smarter than is good for you.”

Stiles was confused for a moment, not understanding what his dad meant by that, but shrugged. 

“They’re all grumpy and they’re shouting a lot. I am worried, but they won’t tell me…”

He tried his best to look as innocent and heartbroken as he could – but the puppy eyes always had been more Scotts forte than his. 

“I won’t tell you kiddo, it’s-”

“'None of my concern’, that’s what Peter and Derek say. But I want to help!”

“You can’t, Stiles. It’s dangerous and we want to make sure that nothing happens to you. Right now, since you’re little you can’t defend yourself against most of the things that go bump in the night.”

Stiles felt frustrated tears welling up in his eyes, but bit his bottom lip and looked at the floor, refusing to let them fall.

“That’s not fair.”

“I know kiddo. But it’s for the best.”

Stiles didn’t think that it was for the best, but what did he know? With a huff he grabbed his stuffed wolf and plopped on the floor, pulling his fluffy blanket to himself and deciding to ignore his dad. John watched him for a moment before sighing heavily and getting up.

“If you’re finished pouting, you should come downstairs.”, he simply exclaimed and Stiles shrugged, petting his wolf's fur. It wouldn’t do him any good, nobody talked to him anymore. And if they did, they were pretending to be having fun. No. Stiles would only go downstairs if one of them called for him. Or it was dinner time. With a determined glimmer in his eyes, he started one of the harder puzzles he and Peter had bought. That would take long enough, he supposed.

Stiles kept pouting and refusing to talk too much to any of them for the next three days. Everyone was on edge; every little sound made the wolfs flinch and getting ready to fight and Stiles was torn between annoyed and scared. What was going on?

“Peter? Can you drive to the store and get some stuff for later?”

“Later?”

“Look on your phone, once in your life. Never thought I’d have to tell YOU this.”

“A pack meeting? Again?”

“Apparently they found another.”

“Shit. You’ll have an eye on Stiles?”

Derek nodded, a grim smile on his face and looking over to were Stiles was sitting next to the couch, ignoring both of them and coloring in one of his coloring books. To most outsiders, it might look as if Stiles was completely non-interested in anything that was happening around him, but both Derek and Peter could see the tension in the small body. 

“You’ll be okay with Derek for a while? The packs coming over later and- “

“I’ll go to my room.”

“We could watch a movie or- “

Before Peter could make any other promises, Derek interfered, sounding sorry but also desperate. 

“No, we need you here, Peter. We still have no idea what the- “

“Language!”

“…. what is causing this. You’re the one with the most supernatural knowledge, your insight is necessary.”

With a sigh, Peter looked at Stiles, but the boy kept ignoring him. 

“I’ll try to hurry.”

Nodding to Derek he grabbed his keys and wallet and left the house. Derek thought he looked heartbroken.

“You shouldn’t be so mean to Peter, Stiles.”

The look the little boy sent his way would have made other grown men cover in fear, but even as a werewolf, Derek felt a cold shudder going down his back. 

“I am not mean. Everyone else is mean.”

And without saying anything else he turned back to his coloring, as if nothing had happened – even if he gripped the pen a bit tighter and colored a bit more aggressively, coloring outside of the lines more often. Sadly, shaking his head, Derek went to the kitchen to start on the snacks and drinks.

Only fifteen minutes later the pack started arriving. While most of them greeted Stiles, ignoring his dismissive demeanor and the pouting, some of them – like Scott and Lydia – kept their distance. Without Stiles making a ruckus and demanding to play, most of the pack members started to vaguely discuss what was happening and Stiles, always the curious one listened intently. Suddenly though, Scott stood in front of him, arms crossed in front of his chest and a furious look on his face. 

“That’s enough. You had your fun Stiles, it’s time you stop that fucking charade!”

A second everything was quiet, but before anyone could interfere or Stiles thinking of what to say, Scott talked again.

“You need to turn back right the fuck now, Stiles! There are already four dead people and you refuse to help, to – what? Take a break? Not feeling responsible? You’re a fucking selfish coward! Turn back right now!!”

“Scott!”

Derek stepped forward, pulling Scott back by the shoulders, while Stiles sat on the floor, wide-eyed and tears running over his face. 

“I- “

“Don’t fucking say you had no choice in this, Stiles! I swear to god, if any more people die because you’re too comfortable playing at being a kid again, their blood is on your hands, and you will pay as much as the culprit, I swear!!”

“That’s fucking enough, Scott!”

Erica bent down, scooping up the shocked and still crying Stiles, before backing up and holding him close. 

“Close your eyes, Stiles.”, she mumbled, but Stiles couldn’t. His eyes were fixated on what he thought was his best friend, his brother, who now more than ever resembled the monster he thought he was after he was bitten. He was raging, spitting and fighting against Derek. He looked like he wanted to hurt Stiles. He had said that he wanted to hurt Stiles.   
Derek roared, pinned Scott on the floor by his throat and held him down. His eyes glowed dark red and Stiles wriggled out of Erica's grasp, running as fast as he could with his short legs to the backdoor and out of the house. Another roar shook the house and in the hectic and mess that followed, no one realized that Stiles was heading straight for the preserve.


	9. Chapter 9

When Peter came back – still cursing about traffic and slow shoppers and common decency – he immediately felt, that something was off. The atmosphere of the packhouse felt dark, ferocious and dangerous, instead of the warmth of a home. Ignoring the few groceries in the back, Peter jumped out of his car and ran, but before he reached the door it got slammed open and revealed Derek with a strong grip on Scotts neck, throwing the younger wolf out. 

“You can come back if you cooled down – and you understand why you need to apologize.”

Scott simply flashed his – GOLDEN!? – eyes at his nephew, before running off. Peter was frozen in place, staring at Derek.

“What the fuck happened?”

Derek was still breathing heavily, a few scratches on his face and chest – visible through the torn shirt – already healing. 

“I am so sorry, Peter. He went off against Stiles and I wasn’t fast enough to stop him, I am-”

Peter took a few steps closer and pulled Derek in a hug – his alpha shuddered from relief and breathed him in.

“We need to talk to him.”

“I’d first like to know why Scotts eyes were golden, not red.”

“I made him submit. He was … he lost it, completely. And when he realized I am serious, he struggled more first but then gave up.”

Walking back inside, Derek recapped to Peter what had happened. The older wolf's rage and fury coursed through his body, every instinct in him screaming for revenge, but making sure that Stiles was okay, was more important right now. He’d deal with McCall another time.

“Stiles?”

“Stiles?!”

The room looked worse than directly after the fight – the result of the remaining present pack members overturning every piece of furniture. 

“We can’t find Stiles! I can’t hear his heartbeat anywhere!”

Peter and Derek froze, their gazes locked on Erica who was smelling desperate and guilty. 

“I grabbed him when Scott and Derek started to fight. He was short of attacking a fucking toddler, that asshole! But when Derek grabbed Scott by the throat he kind of – he wriggled out of my hold and in the chaos, I just tried to get out of the way and-“

Derek stepped forward, pulling Erica in a hug and trying to calm his own racing heart and thoughts. 

“We’ll find him. He’s not in the house, I can’t hear his heartbeat – so we split up and search in the area. Buddy system, regular alarm if something happens. If you find Stiles, shoot a text and meet up back here. Go!”

The Hale pack left the house in a rush, splitting up in teams of two before each chose a different direction to look. Peter howled. He would find his mate and if anything had happened to him, Scott McCall would suffer.

Stiles vision was blurred, with the constant stream of tears running over his face. He didn’t understand what Scott meant. Why was it his fault that people were hurt or dead? He was with Peter and Derek all the time. He wasn’t a bad boy. He listened to them and went to bed on time and he always brushed his teeth. And selfish? He knew that, even though he was little right now, he usually was a grown-up. But he had no control over that? The Fairy-People had said it was a gift and the first few days Stiles had tried real hard to turn back, but it didn’t work.   
With a hiccupping sob, Stiles kept walking. He wasn’t aware of where he was or where he was going, all that he knew and wanted was, that he needed to get as far away as possible. Scott, his bestest friend had screamed at him and tried to hurt him. Derek had protected Stiles though, and Erica too. Why did Scott hate Stiles so much?   
Slowly but surely, with the exhaustion of walking and fighting his way through the underbrush of the forest, Stiles tears came to a halt. The moon was already up, he could see the faint light through the crown of the trees and he could see some clouds here and there, but he had no idea where he came from and where to go. Sitting down on the damp ground he huddled up, trying to keep breathing calmly – but with every breath, it seemed to get harder. Something pushed his chest together and made it harder and harder to breath, his hands shook and his tummy hurt and what if they didn’t find him here in the woods? Stiles didn’t want to be alone forever. He didn’t want them to hurt, didn’t want them to worry, but he had been scared and he had run and what if he would die alone out here?   
Stiles felt his heartbeat get faster and faster, fighting for every bit of air in his lungs, feeling as if his head would explode every second now – and finally, he lost consciousness and sank into the calm, deep darkness. 

With a shuddering breath, Peter forced himself to calm down. It would do none of them any good if they ran around like headless chickens. 

“Do you have a scent trail?”

Derek shook his head, still concentrating on the new intensity of the heightened alpha-power. The mix of scents swirled to spirals in front of his inner eye, distinguishing them was tedious and nerve-wracking, when it was Stiles safety that was on the line. Copying Peter and taking a deep breath to calm himself down, he let his posture relax and tried again. 

“There!”

Opening his eyes and following the tiniest swirl of amber-colored scent lines he took off, Peter hot on his heels. He was thankful for the added power, that having Scott fully submit his status gave him, otherwise, he might not have found the scent that easily. Running through the underbrush, ignoring branches snapping in his face Derek kept going, slowly but surely realizing that the trail got stronger. Peter had picked it up to by now and with a fierce expression on their faces, they shot each other a look before running along.   
While Derek was fully concentrated on Stiles scent, Peter was still internally freaking out. He was – for maybe the first time in a long time – truly scared, not for himself but for someone he held dear. What if Stiles was hurt. What if whatever was out there, had taken up the scent too? A low, menacing growl slipped past his lips and Derek threw him a worried look. 

“We’ll find him.”

Peter nodded, carefully, not sure if holding on to hope was better than realistically approach the possible outcome of the situation. Then, suddenly as if he stepped through an invisible wall, he heard the familiar, fluttering heartbeat. Relief flooded him and Derek and Peter picked up speed. The heartbeat was slower than usual, but the scent in the air didn’t carry traces of physical injuries, just panic, and misery. 

“Over there!”

Peter pushed past Derek, falling to his knees and sledding on them over the leaves on the forest ground. He came to a halt just inches away from Stiles small body, shaking from the cold and pale. The sweat on him told Peter that he most likely had a panic attack and passed out, but what worried him more for the moment was the fact that he was wearing thin pajamas in relatively chilly weather – and the slightly blue tinge of his lips.

“We need to get him home and warm him up.”, exclaimed Derek, watching how Peter carefully pulled his jacket off and put it around the small body, before picking Stiles up and holding him close.

“Go ahead, I’ll tell the pack and meet up with them.”

Peter nodded, looking exhausted and grim, before taking off back to the house, while Derek took out his phone, shooting a text message to the group chat. He was relieved, he wouldn’t lie, but the whole Scott-disaster still made his hackles rise. They would need to decide how to handle him, now just a beta. Without contact with the pack he could become dangerous, but …were they ready to just include him again? After the things he said and the way, he tried to attack an only four years old Stiles? Sighing and rubbing both hands over his face, Derek made his way back to the house. For tonight it could wait. It had to wait. He hoped Stiles was going to be okay and not just physically.  
On the search for Stiles Peter hadn’t paid much attention to his wellbeing, considering that the scratches of low hanging branches and twigs snapping on his face or neck healed almost instantly. Now, carrying Stiles in his arms, he was more careful and due to that slower. He was just glad, that he had worn his jacket, before leaving the house to fulfill the cravings of that ragtag bunch of young adults. Stiles only shivered slightly now, snuffling in his unconsciousness, his heartbeat slow but steady. A few shallow scratches marred his hands and one prominent on his left cheek, but Peter would clean those up as soon as they reached the house, to make sure they were not infected. 

It took about twenty minutes to reach the house – how exactly Stiles had managed that distance with his short legs was beyond him, but there were more important things to think about right now. The pack was nowhere close yet and without bothering with waiting or trying to listen to his surroundings to get to know if they were close, Peter climbed the porch steps. The door was unlocked, everyone had just stormed off after they had realized that Stiles was missing, and Peter didn’t bother wasting time with soaking up the warmth of the house, instead climbing up the stairs to his en-suite bathroom. He needed so warm Stiles up properly.

“Pup?”

Careful Peter took off his jacket, to take a look at the toddler in something more than slivers of moonlight and his enhanced vision. He didn’t look too bad. Pale, yes, and there were the aforementioned scratches but other than that he seemed okay. The socks were sadly a lost cause. Ripped up and dirty, he would have to throw them out. 

“Can you open your eyes for me, pup?”, he softly cooed to the still form of Stiles and with a great amount of relief he heard the uptick of the boys' heartbeat. His eyelids fluttered for a few seconds before amber eyes stared up to him and with a small, confused sob, Stiles grabbed Peter around his neck. 

“Shhh. It’s alright now, Stiles. You’re safe.”

“I thought I was all alone and no one would bother finding me and I would die and Scott said mean things and-“

Peter kept caressing the heaving back of Stiles, while the boy babbled and cried, letting go of the panic and confusion and hurt. Only after about ten minutes, the sobs had petered out to quiet hiccups.

“I know, pup. But we would never just leave you behind. All of us were looking for you. You had us worried sick.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know little one.”, Peter breathed a kiss on the crown of Stiles head. “Right now we need to get you warm again, so it’s time for a bath.”

Stiles looked at him, exhaustion clear on his face and finally nodded, carefully losing his grip on the older wolf, so Peter could take of Stiles clothes. 

“I’ll need to clean your scratches after bath time, baby. At least your feet got away unscathed.”

Stiles simply let himself be moved around and undressed, relieved and happy that they came looking for him, that he was back home again with Peter and Peter wasn’t angry and still wanted him around. Still took care of him. He was tired, but a small smile crept on the little boys face, observing the deft movements of his caretaker preparing his bath. 

“No bubble bath tonight, though. Too much soap won’t do your hands any good.”

Stiles nodded. He didn’t care. Peter wasn’t angry with him. And he was going to have a bath and Peter would stay with him. 

“Come on, pup. In you go.”

Peter grabbed Stiles at the waist, lifting him in the warm, but not hot water and Stiles sighed softly. There were not many bubbles, as Peter had said, but Stiles didn’t mind the nudity. As a grown-up … maybe he would’ve been shyer. But since Peter had bathed him a few times since his change, Stiles had grown more comfortable, especially realizing that for Peter there was nothing sexual about this – and Stiles, the more adult part of him, thought, that maybe even as an adult, bathing him wouldn’t be something inherently sexual for Peter. Stiles entertained himself with watching Peter. 

The man in question had grabbed one of their softest washcloths, squirted a tiny bit of soap on it and started tenderly lathering up Stiles arms and torso. Only after there was less soap on the fabric, he grabbed Stiles chin carefully and tilted his head a bit, before washing his face too. For Peter watching the tear tracks in the bit of dirt that had found its way on Stiles face, was satisfying. If it was for him, Stiles would never feel the need to cry out of fear or hurt. Never. 

“You all right, pup?”

“Mhm.”

“Tired?”

“Mhm…”

“You’re going to stay with me tonight, that okay?”

Stiles lit up and nodded his head, looking a bit like a demented bubblehead. He liked sleeping next to Peter. The wolf was always warm and cuddly and kept him safe and Stiles FELT safe with him. No bad dreams, no fear of the shadows in the room. And Peter always left on the light in the bathroom, so a bit of light fell into the bedroom. Stiles never had said anything along those lines, but Peter just knew, that Stiles wasn’t comfortable with complete darkness anymore. 

“Gimme your feet, you little rascal.”

Stiles giggled, before carefully leaning back and lifting his left leg out of the tub. 

“I am glad you found me.”

Peter smiled, caressing the boys cheek with his free hand, before lathering up Stiles right leg.

“So am I, darling.”

Between some giggling, when Peter cleaned Stiles slightly dirty – but otherwise unmarred – little feet and the soft breathing, Peter finally felt himself relax. Stiles was safe. Fuck McCall, they would take care of that particular problem when the time came, but at least for now, they were alright. Stiles was safe and healthy and warm again and Peter wouldn’t let anyone harm a single hair on his head. 

“Did… did Scott look for me too?”, the quiet voice of Stiles finally broke the silence. Peter considered his possible answers for a second, before deciding that the truth, while hurtful, would be the best.

“No, pup. Derek sent him home after he said those mean things.”

“They did fight. And Scott's eyes got yellow.”

“That they did.”

“He’s no Alpha anymore?”

Looking up at the adult expression in the eyes of his little boy, Peter nodded. 

“We’ll make sure that everything’s taken care of. But not tonight.”

Stiles nodded again, before making grabbing hands and with a soft huff Peter got up, grabbed the towel with the shark-hood and fin and grabbed Stiles under his arms with it. 

“You won’t bite me, won’t you?”

Stiles giggled but shook his head.

“’m too tired. Jus’ wanna sleep.”

“Alright pup. Let’s get you into some new pajamas, show the pack that you’re okay and then get you under the covers, alright?”

“Yeah.”

Peter had heard the pack arrive about ten minutes ago but was glad that they didn’t just barge into the bathroom. He first took Stiles, still wrapped up in the towel, to the boys room, put him on the edge of the bed and started to take a look through the dresser. 

“The one with the cookies?”

Stiles nodded, feeling how heavy his eyelids felt, how warm and cozy and safe his surroundings were and with a happy sigh he let himself fall back on the bed. Peter just huffed a small laugh, before maneuvering the little boy this way and that way to get the sleepwear on him, before grabbing his feet and putting them in a pair of soft blue fuzzy socks. 

“All ready. Time to face the family.”


	10. Chapter 10

As soon as Derek had met up with the pack in front of the packhouse, he felt calmer. He assured them, that Stiles was alright, just cold and that Peter was taking care of him. Derek also made sure to scent every single one of them, and if he hugged Erica a tad bit closer, whispering that it wasn’t her fault that Stiles had ran, it was no one's business but theirs. The rest of the pack kept silent, smiling softly, before entering the house and plopping on the different couches and chairs. 

“We haven’t gotten any further with the planning, tonight.”, Isaac exclaimed, still shook from the flurry of activity that had happened and Scott's outburst. The boy was one of his best friends and … fuck, he completely lost respect for him in a matter of seconds. 

“I know, but I am also sure that we won’t get anything done tonight, one way or another.”, Derek said, leaning back and closing his eyes for a second. “We can meet up tomorrow. Try to find out what this thing is again.”

“We’ll manage. Want us to stay here tonight, mighty alpha?”

Lydia was carrying a soft smile, no heat behind the words and with a shrug, Derek listened to Peter and Stiles upstairs. 

“If you’re not leaving alone, feel free to go home. If someone wants to stay, they’re of course welcome too.”

While Erica and Boyd decided to stay, the rest of the pack slowly but surely started to gather their things. 

“I am staying here with Cora”, mumbled Kira finally, blush high on her cheeks. “I-If that’s okay, I mean.”

Derek and some of the pack chuckled, Cora rolled her eyes, grabbed her girlfriend by the hand and started pulling her towards the stairs, but before they could put a foot on the first step, Peter and Stiles came down.

“Hey. I just wanted to make sure you see for yourself, that he’s alright.”

Stiles looked half asleep, snuffling now and then and clinging to Peters Henley, but one after another the pack members came closer, to scent and caress him. The smile on his face was genuine, the panic he had felt earlier as good as forgotten. 

“Don’t worry us like that anymore, please.”, mumbled Erica, almost suffocating the little boy in her blond curls, but Stiles simply nodded, hugging her back. 

“’m sorry.”

“I know squirt.”

“Not a squirt.”

Erica ruffled his hair before she took place next to Derek and the alpha wondered why he was flanked by the pair – Boyd to his right, Erica to his left.

“Don’t even fret, sourwolf. you had a hard day and we are pack. We’re going to pile up tonight.”

As if that was a problem, Derek thought, while pretending to be slightly annoyed. Boyd and Erica just smiled, knowing their alpha by know. 

“We’re going to bed, Derek. Make sure you three don’t stay up too late, either. Same for you Cora and Kira.”

The girls nodded, Kira softly giggling before following her girlfriend to her room. The members of the pack that wouldn’t stay for the night one after one left, Peter took Stiles upstairs. 

“Ready to sleep, pup?”

Stiles answer was a big, soundless yawn. Peter put him in the middle of the bed, covered him in his blanket and got ready for bed himself. He only wore a pair of loose, comfy sweatpants, used the toilet, brushed his teeth and finally crawled into bed right next to his little boy. For a second he thought Stiles had already fallen asleep, but as soon as the toddler felt the mattress next to him dip down, he started feeling around for Peters hand. 

“I am here, pup.”

“’s good.”

With a smile Peter held Stiles hand, before carefully and tenderly pulling him closer to him, reveling in the feeling of Stiles burying his face against his chest, snuffling and sighing happily. It didn’t take look for the boys heartbeat to even out, for his breathing to become slower and the sweet scent of content sleep emitting. Peter closed his eyes, holding Stiles close.

“Sweet dreams, darling. I’ll keep you safe.”

Peter wasn’t sure what woke him. There was still the feeling of a small, warm body pressed against him. There was a bit of sunlight streaming in through the cracks in the shutters. A soft breeze, where he had opened the window last night because he didn’t want Stiles to overheat.   
Watching the few dust flecks dance around in the ray of light, he looked back to the last few weeks.  
Stiles had been a little boy now for almost six weeks, showing no sign of turning back into an adult at all, except the few to grown-up words peppered in here and there.   
His mind was still slow, hazy and the comfort of the warmth and his 1200 thread sheets didn’t exactly make it easier to gather his thoughts.   
Focusing his gaze on the sleeping form of Stiles, he had to smile. The scratch on his cheek looked only slightly pink, his hands didn’t seem to bother him at all, considering his tight grip on Peters forearm. A look to the clock on his nightstand told him, that it was only minutes after eight and with a soft sigh, he carefully dislodged Stiles and stretched. 

“He’s alright, I promise.”

Perking up, he focused his hearing to downstairs. Now, a bit more awake, he could hear two heartbeats – Dereks and Johns. Fuck. Didn’t Stiles put him into the group chat too? And this morning the Sheriff woke up to a flurry of messages, the last one saying that they found Stiles unharmed? With the thing rampaging through the preserve, he must have been scared shitless, about Stiles. 

“Tell him, he can come upstairs, just quietly.”, Peter whispered, confident that Derek would hear him and only moments later the creaking of the floorboards in front of his door and the slightly elevated heartbeat told him that John had followed the invitation immediately.   
The door swung open slowly and John threw a look inside.

“You decent?”

Peter huffed.

“I am sharing the bed with a four-year-old – of course, I am decent.”

John shrugged, a slight reddish tint on his cheeks before he stepped in and closed the door behind himself. Stiles turned around in his sleep, clutching his stuff wolf, that he had left in Peters bed a few days ago. A wistful smile grazed Johns face and suddenly looking very tired, them and sank on the small armchair in the corner.

“How is he?”

Peter observed Stiles for a second before he sighed.

“I suppose he’s alright. He has a few scratches and when we found him, he was unconscious and freezing. Deducting from his scent, I think he had a panic attack and hyperventilated.”

“God…”

“I warmed him up with a bath and he was very sorry for worrying everyone. Too tired to debate or talk a lot though.”

John nodded, rubbing his face with both hands and staring at the surprisingly still form of his son. Stiles had always been a restless sleeper. Shuffling and twitching, either completely burritoed in his covers or kicking them off the bed. Sometimes grumbling or grunting and on some memorable occasions outright talking. Seeing him so relaxed, John felt torn. On one hand, he was more than happy for his son to have a good night's sleep, not just because after the nogitsune and college the boy had bags under his eyes that seemed to go on forever. On the other hand, he wondered why Stiles seemed to feel so much more safe with a supernatural murderer next to him. John knew, that he had fucked up as a father. It had taken him too long to crawl his way out of the bottle and back into his son's life and at that point, Stiles had taught himself everything he needed to know and was basically self-sufficient. He hadn’t needed John anymore, reacted explosively whenever John tried to take control and be more of a conventional parent, and he knew he deserved his sons' accusations in these times. All of it had taken too long.   
Even in college, stressed beyond anything a young person should be, he refused to ask or accept help and John wasn’t sure if he had to blame himself for this too, or if it was something inherently Stiles. 

“He feels safe with you.”, he finally whispered, not daring to look at Peter. Watching Stiles this innocent and carefree was heartwarming and he was close enough to cry already, one way or another. He didn’t need to see whatever expression Peter had, be it pity, anger or happiness. 

“I don’t know, John. In the last few days, he didn’t exactly like me very much. Even if he was scared at night, he refused to come to me or pretty much kicked me out when I went to him.”

John shook his head, gathering his courage and facing Peter. The man's gaze was still locked on his son and the things he saw in that look… It was happiness and awe, insecurity and fear, pure adoration and wonder. 

“He still does. Never saw the kid sleep as calmly as he’s now.”

Peter nodded slowly, stroking down Stiles spine with one of his fingers. 

“You’re pretty gone on him, aren’t you?”

The wolf's head snapped up, resembling a deer in headlights and with a gruff chuckle, John smiled at him.

“Calm down. I won’t shoot you. I am aware, that your ….feelings are for the adult version of him.”

Peter still looked shocked, white as a sheet, slightly trembling hands. 

“I won’t tell him. And the way I know my son, he’s way too oblivious to see it. But I think… and I never thought I’d say something like this, Hale, but I think you’d be good for him.”

Peter stared. 

“And stop imitating a goldfish, it’s rather unbecoming.”

With a soft click, the wolf closed his mouth, staring at the father of the man he loved. His inner turmoil played out on his face, completely out of his control. John got up.

“We’ll talk about Scott later. I have a shift until seven tonight and I’ll make sure I talk to Melissa. Derek just told me the necessities.”

Peter nodded. 

“I. Thank you.”

“For what? Not shooting you?”

“That too. I just-“

“It’s alright, Hale. You’re alright. Just do what you’ve been doing so far.”

John left the bedroom feeling a bit lighter. He may be too late to take care of his son, with his agreement, but Peter wasn’t. And while Peter wasn’t necessarily a good man, neither was Stiles. These two fit in a way that made him slightly uncomfortable – but also happy. They would figure it out, one way or another.


	11. Chapter 11

A few hours later Peter woke up with a startle, a grumpy Stiles poking his cheek. 

“Let go, Peter! I need to pee!”

Peter simply grumbled, pulling Stiles closer to himself and rubbing his face on the soft skin of Stiles cheek. 

“Peteeeeeeer!”

“Don’t wanna.”

“I really need to pee!”

Huffing, Peter opened one eye to look at the slight flush on Stiles face, before loosening his grip and watching Stiles wriggle away and off the bed. 

“Thank you!”

Geez, no four years old should sound that snarky. Peter stretched, focusing his hearing on the rest of the house. Erica, Boyd seemed to have left, Kira's soft snoring was audible from downstairs and he could hear Derek and her bickering quietly. John must have left immediately after their … talk, but Peter was too drawn to the soft warmth of the toddler in his bed, to seriously consider getting up. Now, looking at the clock, he supposed they were just in time for some sort of late breakfast or brunch. 

Next door the flush of the toilet was audible and with a groan he sat up, wincing a bit at the sunlight shining directly into his eyes. Sadly he was in the company of a kid, and there was no languish period of waking up. No, as soon as he heard the tap shutting off – Peter was thankful, that Stiles had taken the lesson on personal hygiene serious – the bathroom door swung open, Stiles stormed out and threw himself at Peter. He still had trouble climbing up on his own, but he could reach Peters thigh with his pudgy little hands.

“Good morning!”

Peter smiled and softly ruffled Stiles hair.

“Good morning. Feeling better?”

Stiles nodded shyly, before bopping up and down and feeling around for Peters hand, to grab it.

“Come on, it’s time for breakfast!”

“Now?”

“Yeah!”

With a long-suffering sigh, Peter stretched again, letting out a mighty yawn, before throwing his legs over the side of the bed to get up.

“Then let’s go, pup. I think Derek's already preparing something for us.”

“I want pancakes!”

“You heard him, oh mighty alpha.”, Peter grinned, listening to the cursing downstairs, safe in the knowledge that Stiles wouldn’t hear it. 

Stiles grabbed Peters hand, humming tunelessly and pulling him to the door.

“Easy there, pup. Don’t I get to wake up first?”

“You’re walking and talking and I am hungry!”

“That you seem to be.”

Stiles stuck out his tongue, listening to the nonthreatening growl Peter made and speeding up, giggling. Only at the top of the stairs, he slowed down, remembering the lecture he had gotten on safety and why it was important to not take risks – Peter and Derek and his Dad and the pack would get sad if he got hurt! – grabbing the railing and slowly making his way downstairs. Peter followed him, a fond expression in his eyes. 

“What do you want on your pancakes?”

“CHOCOLAAATE!”

“…Chocolate it is. And you Peter?”

Peter considered for a second, before internally shrugging. 

“Whatever kind of berries you have in the fridge has to suffice.”   
When Peter entered the kitchen and looked at Derek, he noticed his nephew looking surprisingly …. relaxed. Stiles had already grabbed the edge of the kitchen island, trying to pull himself up to climb on one of the stairs and with a long-suffering sigh Peter grabbed him around the waist and hoisted him up. 

“No climbing the furniture, Stiles.”, he chided before focusing on Derek. “And you look surprisingly chipper this morning. Had a good night sleep?”

The tips of Dereks ears turned red and with a low growl, he shot Peter a look. The older wolf was not impressed.

“Erica and Boyd already left?”

“Yes. Boyd has work today and Erica has a meeting set up with a guy from her classes, that has some information for her to get into social work.”

Peter nodded solemnly. He had always respected that the little hellion decided to study psychology and [social work], to work in schools and make sure the kids had a safe place to vent and get help. Her history with sickness and bullying was perfect for that and while he didn’t doubt in the slightest, that she would make every bullies life hell, she was also a very empathic and kind person. 

“How are you feeling with the …power change?”

Derek shrugged, brows furrowed as if he was listening in on himself.

“…good actually. It doesn’t feel much different than before. And with Erica and Boyd staying close last night, I feel the packbonds even stronger.”

The soft smile on his nephew's face made Peter happy and nodding he stepped closer, to get to the coffeemaker. Seemingly fleeting he gripped Derek's neck for a second before sliding his hand lower to rub his back. Derek seemed to relax even further – his ears positively glowing.

“I told you years ago already, that you and your ragtag bunch need more physicality.”

“Yeah, I know. Thanks.”

“Of course.”

While his coffee was brewing, Peter grabbed one of the juice packets out of the fridge, handing it to Stiles who already made grabby hands and impatient grumbling sounds. The ripping of the plastic followed quickly and finally the satisfied slurping of their little boy. Swinging his feet Stiles watched Derek cook. He could see the first pancake in one and a few pieces of bacon sizzling in a second pan. 

“Did you make the batter yourself?”, hoisting himself up on his knees, leaning his elbows on the counter Stiles tried to see more. Derek nodded, grabbing a few blueberries and handing them to Stiles. The toddler munched on them with glee, making Peter huff a laugh. 

“You want another coffee too, Derek?”

“Please.”

The whole scene was disturbingly domestic, Peter thought. He felt more comfortable than he had in months if not years, Derek seemed to be at ease and Stiles was content, the last evening seemingly pushed back to the back of his mind.

“What are we doing today, Peter?”

The older man grabbed the first cup of coffee and handed it to Derek, after putting in a splash of milk.  
“I am not sure pup. How are you feeling?”

“I am good, Peter, promise!”

“And your hands?”

Stiles put up his hands, only faint pink scratches visible and with a relieved sigh Peter nodded. As he suspected Stiles wasn’t able to fully access or use his magic, but the magic itself was still there and sped up his healing a bit. 

“After breakfast, we can do something, depends on what you want to do, though?”

While Derek started plating the first pancakes – one for Stiles, two for Peter – Stiles thought about it. Derek couldn’t help the feeling of adoration welling up in him, seeing the little boy looking adorable while trying to think of something, his little brows furrowed, his lips in a pout.

“I want to go to the park!”

Derek and Peter exchanged a look and Peter sat down opposite Stiles.

“You remember, that we need to lay low a bit, don’t you?”

Stiles deflated, biting his bottom lip and starting to carefully rip up his pancake in smaller pieces. 

“I just want to go outside. And I want to play.”

After a moment of thought, Peter finally nodded. 

“I don’t know if you feel up to it, but we could go on a walk through the preserve?”

Dereks ears perked up. 

“Peter, the-“

“As far as we know, it has only been active during the night. Besides, I got my phone on me and if there was anything suspicious I’ll throw Stiles here over my shoulder and run.”

Stiles watched the exchange vapidly, his eyes comically wide and noticing the slightly tight look on Dereks face he leaned forward, grabbing his alphas hand.

“Peter said he would run, Der’k. And I reeeeeally want to go outside.”

After handling Scott – and wasn’t that a painful thought – Derek had thought himself immune against puppy eyes and a trembling bottom lip, but Stiles proved him weak again.

“Fine. But only for an hour or two. And you’ll send texts now and then, alright?”

While Stiles started to wriggle on his seat in excitement Peter looked at Derek, nodding slightly. Derek trusted his uncle fully by now but with that thing out there … he didn’t feel comfortable, knowing his packmates – especially someone as vulnerable as Stiles was right now – were out in the open without protection worth mentioning. Yes, Peter was a werewolf, but they still didn’t know what the fuck was out there. The victims so far had been human, not overly strong but also not considerably weak. No seniors or kids, mostly young adults. 

“Still, don’t go far please.”

“Of course alpha.”

Peters words, accepting him fully as his alpha, made pride well up in Derek and with a coy smile, he turned back to the stove, snagging a piece of bacon, before offering Peter some.  
The older wolf nodded thankfully, loving the crispy texture.

“Dad’s not allowed to eat bacon.”, Stiles said. “It’s too fatty!”

“And you think I shouldn’t eat it either?”, Peter inquired. Stiles shook his head though.

“With you and Der’k it’s okay. You’re wolves, you don’t get heart…. heart …. heartsick!”

Smiling softly Peter nodded, ruffling Stiles hair and starting to eat his pancakes. Stiles had slathered his in syrup – how he could do that when there were already chocolate chips in there, Peter had no idea, but he wouldn’t bother asking.

“So you’d be okay with a walk in the preserve? Even after last night?”

Stiles looked thoughtful for a moment before finally nodding, putting his sticky fingers on Peters arm.

“You’re there and you keep me safe, right?”

Peter grinned and nodded, Derek suppressing a coo. He had realized that Peters feeling for Stiles weren’t as platonic as he wanted everyone to believe – and the way he cared for little-Stiles and the talk he had with John earlier just confirmed his suspicions. And – surprisingly – he shared the same opinion as the Sheriff. There were rarely two people who made sense together as much as those two.

“I will, little one. So after breakfast, we go clean up and then go exploring. Sounds good?”

“Can wolfie come too”?

“If you think you can keep him clean, I don’t see why not.”

“And if he gets dirty? Can’t we clean him up?”

Stiles worried his lip, fixating Peter with curiosity and worry in his gaze.

“Well, we’d have to put him in the washer and I don’t think he can be thrown in the dryer. He would need to dry slowly over time – so no cuddling with him for a few days.”

“Oh. Then it’s better he stays home!”

And with that, he attacked his pancakes again, while Peter wondered if he should find a plushy friend for Stiles, that could accompany him on their adventures.   
The moment Stiles had demolished his pancake and drank his juice he was sliding down the chair with a little shimmy.

“Are we going to play catch? Or hide and seek? Or, or –“

“Calm down, pup.”, Peter chuckled, grabbing Stiles sticky hand and slowly maneuvering the overexcited little boy towards the stairs. “First we need to clean you up. Right now you’re more syrup than human.”

Giggling Stiles let himself be led to the bathroom. The preserve had always been a place of fascination for him, no matter if he was an innocent child without knowing about the darker side of life or a teenager with a like of the macabre (even though, around that time the preserve was a mix between fascination and dread) and now, with a mostly stable territory the preserve was pure fascination again. Stiles knew, that it could still be dangerous and that the pack was nervous about some new thing lurking in the shadows – but with Peter, he would be safe, safer, the safest! With every fiber of his being, Stiles knew that Peter would start ripping throats out with his teeth if someone or something tried to hurt Stiles. Also, he had promised Derek to rather run and take Stiles to safety, than fighting.   
Humming softly he looked up at the older wolf, feeling the contentment rolling off of him in almost tangible waves. Right now he was only a little boy, but Stiles also knew that his grown-up side liked Peter. And that he would like Peter, even more, seeing him that happy. 

Arriving at the bathroom, Stiles let go of Peters hand, scrambling to pull his step towards the sink and stepping up. 

“Wait pup, let me pump the soap. You’ll get it all sticky otherwise.”

“Okay! I like the frosh soap!”

Grinning Peter turned on the tap, waited until Stiles had wet his hands a bit and put them under the dispenser, before pushing the ridiculous frog head. The soap foam spewing out of its mouth was pure nightmare fuel, but Stiles seemed to like it – so who was Peter to judge. Judging was reserved for terrible fashion-choices and nasty little things like showing emotion or social drama. 

“Wash, wash, wash…”

While Stiles was rubbing his pudgy little hands together he grabbed a washcloth, put it under the water and rubbed the sticky residue from his forearm and his own hands, before he cleaned the cloth and wrung it out. 

“Come here, pet. Time to see if there is a face under all the chocolate.”

Giggling Stiles let Peter move his head around, reveling in the tender swipes of fabric over his skin and closing his eyes. 

“There. All clean. You are, after all, a handsome little man.” 

“Thank you Peter!”, straining on the tip of his toes, he grabbed with still wet hands, for Peters face, pulling him down to his level, before placing a huge kiss on the stubbled cheek. The moment Stiles had put his wet little paws on him he inwardly cringed, but the sudden kiss made him freeze for a second. The little boys face was flushed and with a happy grin, Stiles turned the water off, hopped off the step and dried his hands more or less on one of the hanging towels. 

“I want to wear the red overall!”

He left Peter standing in the bathroom, shock clear on his face, while Stiles happily bounced to his room. The wolf stared at himself in the mirror, torn between disgust and awe at the fond, loving expression he was sporting. For fuck's sake, Stiles had always managed to soften him, but this was … a lot. Sighing and shaking his head he dried his own hands, before following the little rascal. He knew, if he left Stiles alone with his clothes, the boy would manage to almost strangle himself while trying to dress. 

“What’s that?”

“A tree.”

“Duuuh! But what kind?”

With a smirk Peter followed Stiles down the small path leading through the “safer” part of the preserve, watching with fondness how he stomped drying leaves, peeked into every bush and constantly brought him little stones or leaves or flowers because “they’re pretty, look!”. 

“I think that’s a young oak.”

“Why is it young?”

Huffing a breath Peter caught up to Stiles to the tree in question. It was a young oak, only about 3 feet taller than Peter. 

“It’s young because it hasn’t grown up completely yet. It’s still small.”

“But my momma told me that trees keep growing all the time, so when does it know that it’s grown up?”

Peter looked at the curious expression on Stiles face and found it hard not to draw similarities between the growing of trees and Stiles own journey through life. 

“Trees keep growing, that’s true. But they only grow when there is space for them. If it gets too cramped, they just stop and wait for more space.”

“Hm.”

Stiles grabbed Peters hands, pulling him along. The boy smelled happy and relaxed, something that set Peter and his more animalistic instincts at ease. It was a beautiful fall day, the air felt crisp, the sun was shining and softly warming their faces, whenever it found its way through the crown of the trees. 

“You’ll tell me when you get hungry, pup?”

“Yes, Peter. But I ate pancakes! And with syrup too!” 

“I am aware, but you’re still a growing boy. I wouldn’t want you to start gnawing on my leg in a fit of hunger!”

“You’re so silly! I wouldn’t gnaw on you!”, Stiles chided, a bright grin on his face. “On Scott, probably. Or on Isaac. But you need your legs, you need to carry me!” 

Laughing the little boy threw himself at said legs, hugging them close and smiling Peter picked him up, perching him comfortably on his hip. 

“Peter?”

“Hm?”

“Do you want to play ‘I spy with my little eye’?”

Groaning he hid his face in Stiles slightly floppy hair, making the boy snort and pat his face. 

“I spy with my little eye something …. Green.”

“In a forest.”

“Yep.”

“Green.”

“Yeeep.”

“…you’re a menace.”

The game continued for over half an hour (Stiles hadn’t given in and told Peter what green thing he had meant, until the wolf finally guessed right) and they were on their way back to the packhouse.   
There was absolutely nothing happening, that stood out. Peter had every single one of his senses focused on their surroundings, to make sure nothing could creep up on them – but that was exactly what happened.


	12. Chapter 12

From one second to the next, Peter was sent flying, hearing Stiles crying out as he was flung out of Peters arm and skidded over the forest floor. His instincts screamed at Peter to grab his pup and run, to get up and get the fuck out of here, but he wasn’t able to move. He felt his muscles straining, his heart beating even fast, felt the heat in his face and heard his grunting, struggling against whatever kept him on the ground and away from his boy.   
Stiles, wide-eyed and with a tear-streaked face seemed to consider crawling over to him, but Peter put as much intensity in his gaze as possible, begging for some form of telepathic communication to Stiles to run the fuck away!  
A foot was placed on his upper back and with a growl, Peter strained to move his neck and see who was attacking them. He still heard no heartbeat and whatever had put him on the ground carried no scent.

“Oh my, what have we here.”, a nasal voice echoed through the forest and Peter – locking his gaze on Stiles again – tried to identify the voice. Whoever it was, the voice sounded familiar, but he couldn’t place it. 

“Kind of stupid for a wolf to bring someone he cares about in the woods while being all alone.”

She – it was definitely a woman – ground her heel and Peter groaned quietly. 

“I figured that I would sooner or later trip over one of you. Your attempts at finding me were … mediocre at best, but what can you do? But how impolite of me.”

He finally heard the rustling of her clothes while she went into a crouch next to his face, keeping a bit of a distance to make sure to stay out of his immediate range. The face was familiar as well. Her hair was dirty-blonde and pulled up in a pony-tail. She wore leggings and a tank top, sneakers and one of those electronic fitness-wristlets. Inwardly groaning Peter watched for any kind of weapon, but the young woman seemed unarmed. 

“You don’t remember me, don’t you?”

She grabbed his hair, yanking his head back and staring at him as if he was an insect soon to be speared on a needle and put up for display. Her eyes were brown, her nose slightly curved and her lips thin. Peter fought with his memory. Then he realized. 

“You’re that girl from the clothes store…”, he ground out. “What the fuck-“

She slapped him across the face with her free hand, tutting softly. 

“My, my. Such language. And in front of your little one, over there. I won’t go as far as to tell you my real name – you don’t deserve to know it anyway.”, she sneered, letting his head fall back down. “But you will tell me, where to find the nemeton, wolf.”

Peter rolled his eyes. For fuck's sake, seriously? 

“Don’t be rude. I know my sacrifices looked a bit … messy, but the more powerful you are, the less ritualistic bullshit you need to pull power. And while I can guess, that I am not the first one to look for that tree, you’ll better revise your opinion of me.”

The woman stood up, seemingly turning around, before swiftly kicking Peter in the face. Over the breaking of his nose and the flare of pain, Peter heard Stiles shout out. 

“I am not one of those little hobby-witches or delusional, power-hungry druids. I am the real deal, and I am sure I’ll find a way to make you cooperate.”

With a truly evil sneer on her face, she stepped away from Peter, not before grounding her shoe on his hand. He felt the bones splinter and bit his tongue, tasting blood. 

“Stay away from him, you bitch!”

She cackled, not paying him any mind and stepping closer to Stiles. The little boy cowered on the floor, changing his staring between Peter and the witch coming at him. His face spoke of panic, of terror and helplessness. Seeing Peter getting hurt – and that easily – meant this was bad. Really bad.  
And Peter? He prayed. Whatever spell the bitch had flung at him paralyzed his body and to an extent his vocal cords. Even if he could scream or howl, he probably was too far away from the packhouse for Derek or someone else hearing them.

“Leave him alone!”

“I don’t think I will. Even back in the store, I got a peculiar kind of …feeling, when it came to this little guy. He’s not just human, isn’t he?”

With a grunt, Peter tried to move his head, to no avail. The only things he heard were Stiles frantic heartbeat and fast breathing. 

“Come here, little one. If your wolf plays along, I won’t have to hurt you or him. At least not …much.”

Peter felt his fangs and claws slip, felt his eyes changing color, frustration, and desperation making him almost hyperventilate – but suddenly their surroundings seemed to freeze. Peter held his breath.

“What- “

“You hurt the wrong wolf, you fucking bitch!”

Surprise, wonder, fear. He never thought he’d hear this voice again so soon, but there he was. Out of the corner of his eye, Peter could see the ripped clothing of little Stiles lying around very male, very grown-up feet.   
He closed his eyes, still tense. Whoever that woman was, she was powerful enough to kill four people, sneak up on and paralyze him. He truly hoped Stiles didn’t need an adjustment period, standing a few feet taller than only moments before, that he had the same control over his magic as he had before the Fae-gift had rendered him unable to use it at all.  
A sudden rushing sound filled Peters ears, the wind picked up and he could hear the trees rustling louder and louder. The ground was shaking and even through his closed lids, he could see his surroundings getting brighter. 

“What are- WHO?”

“None of your business.”

A female shriek, a terrifying splattering sound and – silence. He could still hear Stiles heartbeat, still fast but evening out more and more and his controlled breathing. Considering what just happened, he tentatively moved his feet, then his hands. The witch was no more and with a slight groan Peter opened his eyes and sat up. The view he was getting, was … magnificent. Stiles was in the nude – his clothes didn’t grow with him, obviously – standing in front of a …flesh colored, bloody lump. His boys eyes glowed a deep, golden color and unashamed, Stiles stepped closer to Peter.

“You alright?”

Peter felt his throat tighten and simply nodded. Stiles looked powerful and … he looked balanced. More than he ever had seen the young adult. 

“How about you, Stiles?”

Stiles smirked slightly, snapping his fingers and vines sprouting out of the ground grabbed the last remains of their attacker, pulling them back underground.

“It’s a bit chilly and … I feel kind of too tall, right now, but… I’ll manage.”

Without any other words, Peter shrugged off his coat, handing it to Stiles. And if he left his hand linger on the boys a second longer then strictly necessary, that was nobody’s business but his own. 

“Let’s go back. Derek will blow a fuse.”

Stiles simply turned around, tying Peters coat around his waist to save some of his dignity and started walking. Confused and slightly overwhelmed, Peter followed.

While Peter was sure that his own face wasn’t any better looking – he would treasure the look on Dereks face forever. He would never stand there, jaw hitting his chest and with eyes almost bulging out of his head. He had too much dignity and pride for something like that.

“What’s up sourwolf?”

“Stiles?!”

“The one and only. If you don’t mind, I am going to get a shower and put some clothes on.”

“I. Sure.”

Before Derek could react any further Stiles sauntered up the stairs, leaving the two wolves in the kitchen. 

“Peter?”

“Yes, Derek?”

“What the fuck happened?!”

Stiles was freaking the fuck out. Yes, he had been able to hide that fact really well, not gonna lie, he was kind of proud of that, but right now? Standing in the bathroom, closed-door and thanking himself for putting up the magic soundproofing, he was losing it. Full stop.   
Staring at himself in the mirror for a moment and trying to keep his breathing controlled enough so he wouldn’t hyperventilate, he recalled the last few weeks. He hadn’t forgotten anything. The way the pack had taken care of him – especially Derek and Peter – the safety and content he felt. The tender affection of Peter, the gentle way of making sure he had everything he could ask for.   
Other people might freak out for almost basically pulverizing a witch, but not Stiles. Stiles was hung up on something else.  
‘I love you Peter.’  
And Peter had said it back. What the fuck did that mean? He was a little boy at the time, the context was different, but … Looking in his own eyes through the mirror again, Stiles had to admit, that even as a grown-up, he meant it. The crush he had been harboring for the older wolf had been an embarrassing constant in the last few – he wasn’t going to lie to himself any longer – years, and now with the added insight to the …more caring, emotional side of the wolf? Stiles was doomed. He was fucked. How the hell was he going to recover from that? And Peter … what if the wolves only were so affectionate because he was turned into a little kid? Sure, the pack never had been distant in any way, but the … closeness, the accepting nature of them when he was little… He was going to miss it. He was going to miss all of it. The not having so much responsibility, the asking for help and not bothering with boring adult stuff. The being taken care of and falling asleep in Peters warm embrace…   
Rubbing both hands over his face, Stiles shook his had and stepped away from the mirror and towards the shower. One thing at a time. He was going to take a shower and hunt around for his clothes. And if he didn’t find them, he would steal some of Peter, even if we would be forgoing the v-necks. 

“And he turned back?”

“Yes.”

Derek looked thoughtful for a moment, before leaning against the kitchen counter and taking a deep breath. 

“He did it to protect you.”

Peter hid his face in his hands, trying to gather his thoughts. Stiles was a grown-up again. 

“Maybe.”

“Not maybe. Not even Scott attacking him made him turn back, but you being in danger?”  
“And what am I supposed to do with that information?”

Derek sighed and shook his head, before stepping closer to Peter and putting a hand on his shoulder. 

“Look… I know that you have feelings for him. And…”, Derek looked to the ceiling. “I never thought I’d say something like that, but I am pretty sure that it’s not one-sided. You should talk to him after things have calmed down.”

Peter finally looked up, looking for some form of deception, but found nothing but sincerity. Hanging his head low, he shrugged. 

“I …”, he stopped, gathering his courage. It had been a long time, that Peter had been open with his emotions and he missed the days were Derek and him were closer, more like siblings than uncle and nephew. Time to change that … or at least try. “I don’t just have feelings. He’s my mate.”

The last word left his lips in a whisper and he could feel Dereks shock. 

“He’s your- are you sure?”

Peter nodded, taking a deep breath and putting on a self-deprecating smile. 

“Yes, I am. I am sure you can see my predicament.”

Derek though wore a broad smile and without any hesitation pulled Peter in a bone-crushing hug. Confused Peter patted his back. 

“I am happy for you.”, Derek mumbled. “It’s rare and-“

“And he deserves way better than someone like me, Derek. I won’t put this pressure and expectations on him.”

At that Derek pulled back, looking Peter in the face and sighing slightly. 

“I don’t think so. You had a… a rough patch. And we have all forgiven you for it. It’s time you forgive yourself and realize that you deserve to be happy.”

“Is that your therapist talking?”

Derek grinned crookedly and shrugged.

“Maybe. It doesn’t make it less true, though. You deserve a shot. And it’s Stiles – and only Stiles! – decision what he deserves and wants. And I am pretty sure it’s you. Just … be honest with him?”

Peter was confused but the small flicker of hope in his chest made him feel warm. That and Dereks words made him feel more himself than he had in years. 

“I… okay. Just. Let’s give him time to get readjusted.”

“Of course. I don’t think you should stop taking care of him, by the way.”

Peter looked curious for a second before realization set in. 

“If he wants that and lets me, it’s a given.”

Derek smiled.


	13. Chapter 13

Stiles was close to a panic attack. Scott. Derek. The fight and the way his – by now former – best friend had attacked him. Scott who had lost his alpha spark … Closing his eyes and taking deep breaths, Stiles scrubbed over his body, getting rid of the bits of dirt and leaves that still clung to him here and there. One thing after another.   
That Scott never forgave him and saw him differently after all the shit that had gone down, he knew. That Scott tended to be a hypocritical, black and white thinking, egoistical and popularity-obsessed asshole, he also knew. That he had truly lost his brother only had sunk in now, considering that he was ready to full-on attack his supposedly best friend, while he was four years old. That he truly had believed, that Stiles had control over that particular situation.   
Stiles felt tears stinging in his eyes and while everything in him refused to let them fall, the shower hid the evidence well. This all was so messed up. How the fuck was he supposed to just … keep going?

While Derek sent a mass text to the pack, including John, Peter kept glancing at the stairs, trying to hear if Stiles finally left the bathroom. The soft sounds of rushing water flowing down the pipes told him, that the boy was under the shower, but … well, he was taking quite a bit of time. Peter was smart enough to know that however skilled Stiles had deceived them with his calm, he still had deceived them. He was convinced that the boy was not alright and not being able or better said allowed to storm up and make sure his pup – no, just Stiles! – was alright, drove him up the walls. Seeing Dereks scrunched up face, he knew that he must smell of anxiety pretty badly, but hell – Derek wasn’t smelling any better himself.

“He’s going to be alright, Peter.”

“Sure.”

“I mean it.”

“While that might be, he sure as hell isn’t alright right now.”

Sighing and rubbing his hands over his face, Peter got up and stepped towards the stairs. Derek looked at him and huffed slightly, before entering the living room, sitting down on the couch and turning on the T.V. Peter wasn’t listening to it, instead he kept creeping up step for step. The shower was still running and Peter cursed the day the boy had managed to find a way to also scent proof them. Biting his tongue and sending prayers to every deity known to man, he knocked on the door. 

Stiles didn’t hear the knocking at first, only barely managing to not completely break down, but the sound was persistent. 

“Just a second.”

Rubbing both hands over his face, Stiles turned off the water, willed his heartbeat to slow down more and took a look in the mirror. Yes, his face looked a bit red, but that could very well be because of the water's heat. Taking a deep breath, Stiles grabbed a towel, wrapped it around his waist and looked at the door, before gathering his courage and opening it. Peter looked anxious, observing him closely and letting his gaze trail over Stiles face and body. 

“What’s wrong, creeperwolf?”, Stiles mumbled, grabbing another towel to dry his dripping hair. He didn’t sound as chipper or sarcastic or snippy as he wanted to and he was afraid Peter picked up on that. His heart was still beating too fast even for him. The older wolf simply looked at him, saying nothing, only raising one eyebrow. Huffing Stiles kept drying himself, trying not to get up worked up again by Peters nonchalance. He didn’t seem teasing, he seemed worried and careful as if Stiles was a frightened little animal, that had to be approached with care. He hated it (only he didn’t). 

“What?”, Stiles finally snapped, after Peter still kept quiet. “Happy I am not fun-sized anymore so you don’t have to make sure I don’t hurt or kill myself by accident?”

Peter sighed softly, closing the door behind him and stepping closer. Stiles stepped back.

“What, am I suddenly not good enough to talk to anymore?”

Peter kept coming closer, invading his space and Stiles, to his immense frustration, felt tears running over his face. 

“What the fuck do you want, Peter?!”

And he kept quiet, not a single word leaving his lips and Stiles wanted to hit him and scream and rage but all that happened was a barely audible sob escaping him. Pressing his hand in front of his mouth, he suddenly felt the sink in his back and Peter. Still. Came. Closer. 

“P-Peter-“

“Shh, pup.”

Stiles didn’t have time to say anything else before warm arms circled him and pushed him against a warm, firm chest. Peters musky scent filled his nose, the older wolf's breath caressing his cheek when Peter leaned his chin on Stiles shoulder. It only took seconds before Stiles clung to him, pressing himself even closer, body shuddering with sobs. Peter kept him upright, when he felt his knees buckle, caressing his back and holding him close. 

“I’ve got you, little one.”

“Not little anymore.”, Stiles mumbled. 

Peter shrugged, nosing on Stiles temple and pressing a soft kiss on the still damp skin.

“Still my pup. If you want that.”

For a second Stiles felt like he couldn’t breathe at all, frozen in place and trying to make sense of the words Peter just said. As if it was so easy. ….was it? 

“If you let me take care of you, I will keep doing it, pup.”

“I am an adult.”, Stiles hiccupped, carefully searching for Peters gate. The wolf smiled – not smirked or grinned or grimaced! – and gently caressed his cheek. 

“I am aware of that, Stiles, believe it or not. But before your little … adventure, you were always tense, high strung and stressed. You can be an adult and do adult things and still can enjoy someone taking care of you.”

Stiles leaned his forehead against Peters shoulder, closing his eyes and trying to soak up the comfort the wolf was offering. He was still feeling a bit awkward, but part of his brain demanded he just forgot about it and let it happen – Peter was safe. 

“What… what would you get out of that…?”

Peter huffed a laugh, deft fingers circling the muscles between his shoulder blades. 

“If you haven’t realized during the last few weeks, I do enjoy taking care of someone else. I enjoy taking care of you. I want to be at least part of the reason for you to be relaxed and happy, I want to spoil and pamper you. See you thrive.”

Stiles felt himself blush and hide his face in the crook of Peters neck.

“Nothing more…?”

Peter stilled for a moment before breathing in deep.  
“I want whatever you’re willing to give, sweetheart. Be it nothing, be it … all.”

“And if I… if I can’t, what-“

“You’ll always have me. I told you before, Stiles. I like you. Nothing has changed about that fact.”

Stiles felt his heartbeat calm down, even though the conversation he was having right now should freak him out. On the other hand, he felt like they had been heading into that direction for quite a while now – no surprise there, in a way. 

“You … you want to be my sugar daddy or something?”

Peter shrugged again, before carefully dislodging Stiles grip on him and grabbing the towel, that had fallen on the floor. With quick, but gentle and practiced motions he finished drying Stiles hair and face before starting on the boys chest.

“If you want to call me daddy, I wouldn’t say no.”, he smirked, loving to watch Stiles blush travel across his torso. “But to be serious, you could call me that, if you want. I don’t care about labels much.” 

In thought Peter kept drying Stiles, not reacting when the young man gasped when the slightly rough fabric of the towel dragged over his nipples. 

“I know you are a smart and curious young man, Stiles and I am sure you’re aware of different …dynamics.”

“Like BDSM?”

“Like that. It doesn’t have to be solely sexual. Or at all. I for my part would … probably identify myself as a Daddy-Dom. I like taking care of others, especially you, with sexual aspects or not.”

“I don’t know if I could be like, a kid again, or something.”

“No one expects you too.”

“But, there’s this whole thing about littles and ageplay and-“

“You’re right, there is. But I, for my part, would most likely be uncomfortable with sexual things with a person, that is in a little headspace. Out of that? No problem.”

“Hm.”

Peter had thoroughly dried Stiles upper body and thinking to himself that he has pressed his luck enough for today, he threw the towel into the hamper and caressed Stiles cheek once more. 

“You don’t have to decide or answer right now. Take your time, think it through. Research.”, he gently rubbed his stubbled cheek against Stiles soft one, before pulling back. “Right now you should get dressed and maybe get some more sleep. You look exhausted.”

Stiles was flabbergasted and kept staring at Peter but finally nodded. The older man was serious, he could see and sense that much, but ….why? Why him? Shaking his head internally, he couldn’t help but put two fingers to the place Peter just had scented. The skin there still tingled a bit from the surprisingly soft stubble.   
“Want me to wake you, dinner is ready?” 

Stiles nodded slowly, watching Peter smile and turning around. Before Peter could leave the room though, Stiles hand shot forward, grabbing him by his Henley. Peters eyebrows rose and slightly confused he turned around to watch the gloriously flushed face of his boy.

“Yes?”

Stiles seemed to steel himself and the words, when they left his mouth, were so quiet Peter had to strain his hearing to understand him.

“Can you stay with me?”

He smiled. 

While Stiles dried the rest of himself, Peter went to his bedroom and pulled out some clothes that would fit the young man. He chose a pair of low hanging black sweats and a simple grey shirt – he hoped that would suffice – before putting one of his smaller boxer briefs next to it. Stiles entered the room shortly after, towel still around his waist and with a soft sigh, Peter pointed to the clothes, before turning around and pulling off his top. He heard Stiles heartbeat skip there for a second and grinned. At least his boy still found him attractive. Shedding his jeans also, Peter stretched before sitting down on the edge of the mattress. 

“You ready?”

“Y-Yeah.”

Peter turned around and couldn’t help it, that his mouth watered. Stiles was pretty much drowning in his clothes. Peter had made sure to pick things that were rather small on him, but on Stiles they still looked gigantic. He had tied up the sweats so they wouldn’t fall down and with a soft huff, the boy threw himself on the bed. 

“Is there a reason that you didn’t put out my own clothes?”

“They are a tad bit too small, by now.”

“Hardihar. I meant my adult-clothes, snarky.”

“They weren’t fit for taking a nap, Stiles. Jeans? Really?”

Stiles rolled his eyes, suddenly nervous and not knowing how to position himself. Peter simply grabbed him by the waist and pulled him in his arms, half on top of him. While it was true, that Stiles everyday clothes weren’t comfy enough for a nap in Peters book, he wouldn’t lie and say that it didn’t satisfy him to see his boy wearing his clothes – and more important his scent. 

“Close your eyes, pup. The rest of the world can wait a few hours more.”


	14. Chapter 14

As much as Peter wanted and tried – he couldn’t sleep. He spent the time of Stiles nap by watching the boy in his arms, the crease between his brows finally smoothed out again, his heartbeat strong and even and the breathing calm. Peter was not calm. He hadn’t planned on …springing this onto Stiles just like that and especially now, but when he had entered the bathroom, his boy had looked so lost and out of place, unanchored and drifting.

As soon as Stiles had opened the door, Peter had been bombarded with the scent of tears, misery, and panic. Thinking of his words, he realized that he meant all of them. Every single one. He wanted Stiles to be as cherished and spoiled and taken care of as he deserved and while he liked John, and at least nowadays didn’t outright dislike the pack – most of the time they did a crap job at taking care of their son, friend, and packmate. He had observed Stiles struggling in the last few months, watching the formerly energetic young men withdrawing more and more in his anxiety and the overall negativity of his thoughts was jarring. Stiles never had been a true optimist, but he had to watch Stiles get desperately close to a full-on depression. 

The door opened slowly, revealing a sheepish looking Derek, watching the pair. Peter raised an eyebrow and mouthed later, shaking his head slightly. Derek smiled, pointed to Stiles and mouthed ‘told you so’ back. With a little salute, way more chipper than Dereks usual behavior, the alpha strolled out of the room again, closing the door behind him. 

Peter wasn’t sure what time it was. When Stiles body had been smaller, it had been easier to maneuver him around to get a lock at the clock on the nightstand, but now? Now the risk of waking Stiles was too big and Peter didn’t want to risk it. His fingers carded through the soft fluffy hair at Stiles nape, enjoying the soft breathes caressing his collarbones. He could feel Stiles getting goosebumps and softly shuddering, before the boy cuddled even closer, tightening his grip and letting out a content sigh. He could feel him slowly waking up, sensed it in the change of scent and light elevation of his heartbeat. 

“You back with me, darling?”

“Mhmm…”

The barely audible grumble vibrated against Peters naked skin and with a low chuckle he put more intent in his touches. The muscles on Stiles neck were slightly tensed up and he could feel a small knot just on the juncture to his shoulder. With a bit more pressure, Peter started to massage the point and got a low moan as a reward.

“’m too sleepy. But don’ stop, ‘kay?”

Peter huffed, his free hand caressing the boys waist and keeping on with the massage. He could feel the knot losing its tension and with a last, slightly stronger push – and an unfairly erotic groan – it let loose.

“’s soo good...”

“Glad you think so, pup. But I am pretty sure if not the pack, at least your Dad will show up soon, to make sure you’re alright.” 

“’d be awkward… cuddling with you and my dad walks in.”, Stiles mumbled, slowly getting more and more coherent. He huffed a laugh. “Imagine that.”

“That did actually happen. Only you were still a tad bit smaller and definitely more asleep.”, Peter grinned, feeling Stiles freeze and then letting out a truly pitiful mewl.

“Oh god. Oh gooood. What did he say? No. Don’t tell me.”, slowly pushing himself on his elbows Stiles stared at Peter. “Whatever happened, he couldn’t have been too mad. I think I would have woken up if he shot you. Or stabbed you.”

Peters eyebrows rose and Stiles got up fully, straddling Peters lap and watching down on him, his hands on Peters chest. 

“On the other hand, you obviously must have used little-me as protective shield all ‘think of the children, Sherriff!’ kinda shtick, right?”

Peter shook his head. 

“He was surprisingly reasonable. Told me all about how he already suspected that you had a major crush on me. Whispered my name in your sleep, all that. He said, you are actually an adult, and he thinks we fit.”

Stiles eyes had gotten wider with every word – and his cheeks redder. He looked blotchy, shocked and with another whine, he hid his face in his hands. 

“Oh god, he didn’t.”

Peter laughed. 

“He didn’t, actually. But your reaction just now told me quite a few interesting things.”

The fist hitting his chest – not powerful, more like a playful slap – made him laugh even harder and Stiles frowned.

“You’re an ass. Such an ass!” 

“And you’re a menace. I also suspect a hamster or something the like in your heritage, watching you scarf down five servings of curly fries was traumatizing, but watching little you literally shoving one and a half pancakes in your mouth and bulging out your cheeks was …well, traumatizing and slightly more adorable.”

“I am not a hamster!”

“A bit, darling.”

“But you said slightly more adorable.”, Stiles stopped, his gaze focused intently on Peters face. “You think I am adorable when I stuff my face with curly fried goodness?”

A smug smile was playing around his lips and Peter rolled his eyes.

“Of course that would be the thing you focus on. Forget the traumatizing. The grease, salty fingers that touch everything, leaving stains in their wake.”

“What else do you think is adorable?”

Stiles was still grinning, poking Peters cheek with one of his long fingers.  
“Tell meeeee.”

Peter let loose a long-suffering sigh, shaking his head slightly, before putting his hands on Stiles waist and holding him in place, before the boy remembered his tendency to jump up and down on Peter when he was smaller. 

“Well. Not strictly adorable, but your oral fixation is an… interesting thing to watch.”

With glee, Peter watched the blush rise again.

“I don’t have an oral fixation, you creeper! You’re just a perv!”

“Sweetheart, whenever the pack goes out to Mays diner, you make almost everyone either incredibly uncomfortable or aroused with your lewd treatment of straws. And the pens during research or studying. Heavens forbid, someone actually gave you a sucker once.”

Grinning he let his fingers wander under the hem of the shirt, tracing the soft flesh. Stiles shuddered slightly, goosebumps springing up and with a pout and a huff, he leaned down and got more comfortable, still watching Peter.

“I am ticklish. Don’t get any dumb ideas.”

“Me? Never.”

Derek had started on dinner about fifteen minutes ago and he would probably still need about another half an hour. John had said, that he would come over immediately after his shift and with a bit of verbal strong-arming he had managed to get the rest of the pack – especially Erica – to stay home for tonight, to not overwhelm Stiles. When he heard an incredibly shrill shriek, laughing and cursing Derek simply looked to the ceiling, smiling. He couldn’t tell if they were fighting or playing – or both – but one thing was clear to him. These two deserved each other.

Dinner with John had gone swimmingly if Peter said so himself. The man had stormed in, grabbed Stiles and hugged his boy for minutes while breathing heavily and Stiles clung to his father like a drowning man. Peter had watched with fondness. He was happy, that Stiles and John had a relatively healthy relationship, with John admitting his shortcomings and Stiles… well, Stiles had forgiven him, had learned to let go of his obsessive and controlling ways and relished in the newfound stability John provided. It also helped, that Melissa had an eye on the Sheriff. 

“So you changed back and …”

“Vaporized the bitch, yes.”

“Language!”

“I am not four years old anymore, Dad.”

“No, but you’re still my kid. You didn’t get hurt?”

“Few scratches when she attacked Peter and I fell, but nothing else.

“Good, good.”

There was an awkward silence for a moment, Johns eyes flitting between his son and Peter. The two felt close, still, but now he wondered just how close they already were. He raised an eyebrow in question and Peter made a vague motion with his hand. Stiles – shoveling the pasta Derek had cooked for dinner in his mouth, to avoid the elephant in the room – didn’t see it. John smiled and sighed softly. 

“So, did you see the last Met’s game?”

“Fuck, I missed games!?”

After dinner, Peter and Stiles volunteered to do the dishes – not time-consuming work, surely, but a short kind of breather from Johns watchful gaze was welcome. They were in sync, Peter washing the dishes, the sleeves of his Henley rolled up to his elbows, and Stiles drying whatever Peter handed him. John and Derek had moved to the living room, both men nursing a beer and watching the scene in the kitchen out of the corner of their eyes.

“Have you talked to Melissa?”

John nodded, groaning softly and rubbing his free hand over his face. That talk hadn’t been fun.

“She said she talked to him earlier today. He didn’t tell her what happened, but she said he seemed agitated and…conflicted.”

Derek nodded, rubbing his thumb over the slightly peeling label. 

“I told her what happened. She wasn’t happy, especially when I told her that he attacked Stiles, but she also said he seemed to be more and more stressed lately.”

“That’s no excuse.”  
“Of course it isn’t, but from what Melissa said she thinks that Scott had trouble carrying the responsibility of being an alpha. Apparently he was feeling guilty about not being able to help Stiles settle and being a bad friend, there’s tension between him, Allison and Isaac and then, when the murders happened, it just became too much.”

Derek considered the words and nodded slowly. It did make sense, in a way. 

“From what she told me, he’s also struggling with his studies. Barely having time to be home and all that.”

“And what do you suggest?”

John shrugged, shooting a look to the kitchen. 

“I’d say that’s Stiles decision.”

“They talkin’ ‘bout us?”, Stiles inquired and looked to Peter. The older man nodded slightly. 

“A bit. They were talking about Scott.”

“And?”

“Apparently more things were going on than we were aware of. While I never liked Scott very much, your father seems to think you should hear him out, if he decides to apologize. And Melissa says she thinks Scott was struggling with being an alpha. Maybe he can be more… comfortable now.”

Stiles sighed softly, scratching his belly and looking out of the window. He could still recall the feeling of panic when Scott attacked him, the feeling of loss and abandonment. Of losing his friend and brother.

“I…”

“You don’t have to make a decision now, little one. But the way I know you, you won’t be happy without hearing him out anyway.”

With a huff Stiles poked Peters side, rolling his shoulder and drying another plate. 

“I suppose. We’ll see if he shows up.”

“Do you hope he does?”

“I… I guess.”

The only thing he was worried about was if Scott thought himself worthy of another chance. Would he even try? Or did he think of himself as unforgivable? Internally shaking himself, Stiles leaned on Peters shoulder, watching how the older man pulled the plug in the sink and the water swivel down the drain. 

“Let’s join them, sweetheart.”, Peter mumbled, pressing his lips quickly on the crown of Stiles head, putting a blush on the boys face. “I am sure they want to hear how you want to handle this.”

“Wahoo. Sounds like fun.”


	15. Chapter 15

The ‘after-dinner talk’ with Derek and his Dad had been… interesting, but exhausting. Stiles had no problem differencing between stress-related outbursts and …whatever the hell one would call Scott's freak-out. He had been stressed too. He could … well, maybe he could forgive Scott. With time. And distance. He still got sweaty palms and felt himself trembling when he recalled the attack and that just wouldn’t do. 

“You alright, pup?”

“Not a pup anymore.”

He could hear Peter rolling his eyes and only a moment later he felt a warm, strong hand gripping his neck. Stiles felt like a puppet whose strings were cut, sagging into himself a bit and closing his eyes, he wondered how a simple touch from Peter could make him relaxed like this. 

“Are you tired?”

Stiles nodded a bit, refusing to open his eyes. Earlier, under the showers, he had wondered if Peter somehow manipulated him with magic. The easy acceptance, the touching and relaxation, the whole feeling safe shtick. But after listening to himself and his actual emotions he had to admit that no. There was no manipulating. All the reactions that confused him, came from himself. Sighing softly he leaned back against Peters arm. 

“I guess.”

His dad had left about twenty minutes ago, hugging Stiles tightly and telling him to call him whenever he felt he needed to vent. To be fair, he was kind of confused about why he would need to vent, but the meaningful look his father sent towards Peter, before looking back at him, made him blush a furious red. He had promised the man, to call – and threatened him with every kind of detail no father should ever know, but John had simply smiled and ruffled his hair.

“Come on, then.”

Before Stiles could react or get up on his own, Peter wormed his arm under his legs, the other one around his waist and lifted him up. Sputtering Stiles threw his arms around the older mans neck.

“Peter!”

“Yes, dear?”

“I can walk!”

“But you’re tired and you don’t have to. Let me?”, Peter mumbled with a fond and questioning look on his face. Stiles grumbled but finally nodded.

“You could ask next time.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”, Peter replied, internally overjoyed of the use of “next time”, telling him that Stiles, while flustered and still a bit awkward, wasn’t completely against Peters caretaking. Stiles huffed a laugh, before leaning back against Peter, trusting the wolf to not let him fall. It felt strange, somehow, how their “relationship” had progressed even tough Stiles had spent over six weeks as a four-year-old. Remembering some of the things he has said and done, his reactions to Peter and Derek and the rest of the pack … maybe the key to the progress was the …openness, Stiles had felt as a kid. He didn’t even question, if they had ulterior motives or if they were making fun of him. After a while and some gentle assurance from Peter, he didn’t even worry about being annoying or clingy. He wished this innocence and lack of distrust back, in a way. Sure, outside of family and pack it was dangerous, but …with them? Biting his bottom lip, he looked up to Peter, thinking about the man's offer.  
It felt right, in a way, but on the other hand? He was a grown-ass man! He had his Ph.D., he had his own store (even if there was nothing in it yet, and hadn’t been opened once) and his own apartment (that looked barren, Stiles hadn’t found the energy to unpack his few boxes – and the second-hand furniture wasn’t bad but … not really his Stiles. A dusty pink-colored, velvety couch?). But damn, he could admit that he had struggled. Still struggled, to be perfectly honest. The idea of Peter taking care of him…? Telling him to eat actual food, not just cup-noodles? Making rules, that Stiles had to follow? Making sure he had the things he needed, maybe … maybe spoiling him a bit? And now and then giving him a bit of an ass-kicking, so Stiles got his shit together and started with his business? Peter seemed to be aware of his internal struggle, except for a few looks, while he was carrying Stiles up the stairs, not a single comment was uttered. He probably realized, that his snark wasn’t going to be helpful or wanted right now.   
Stiles had made up his mind. Taking a deep breath and biting his tongue, he strengthened his grip on Peter and snuggled closer. His face almost automatically found it’s way to the crook of Peters neck and with a content sigh Stiles felt himself relaxing even further. Peters scent was… perfect. It felt like home and safe and warm. Like adoration and fondness, but also wild, like the forest after rain and musk.   
Peter felt the moment when Stiles had seemed to make up his mind and waited with bated breath on what the young man would do. What he didn’t consider was, that Stiles relaxed even further, clinging tighter and snuggling up to him, pressing his face on Peters neck. With anybody else, Peter would not allow this, the throat of a wolf the most vulnerable spot on their body. But with his boy? Peter felt a soft tremor going through his body, before he sighed softly, breathed a kiss on Stiles temple and tried to calm his racing heart. He had no way of knowing in what way Stiles had … accepted their current dynamic, but this? This was a start and a promising one at that. 

Stiles felt ….floaty. Kind of freed. It was …reasonable, he thought. Confronted with a decision, Stiles always overthought everything, but once he had made it, he pulled it through. Now, with this decision, at least for now, made it felt like the most logical thing ever. Peter would take care of him. He was safe and loved and Peter wouldn’t leave him alone. The sleepiness he felt earlier came back with a vengeance and snuffling Stiles made himself as small as he could in Peters strong hold. Peter chuckled, caressing Stiles knee, before opening the door of Stiles room with a bit of fumbling. He didn’t know if Stiles was comfortable enough right now, to spend the night next to him in his bed, so he hoped the room the boy had used in the last weeks was going to suffice. Stiles heartbeat and breathing had calmed down fast, the scent he was emitting turning sweet, content and happy. Peter still had a bit of trouble believing that this reaction stemmed from him and his actions or …person? But the way Stiles was right now let no doubt come to fruition. Careful Peter put Stiles on the bed, huffing a soft laugh when Stiles seemed to cling even tighter. 

“Let go for a second, pup.”, Peter whispered, caressing Stiles cheek. “I’ll just tuck you in.”

“Don’ leave..”, the boy whispered, his grip slowly going lax and Peter couldn’t help but stare at him wide-eyed. 

“You sure, pup?”

Stiles lips turned into a pout and the hand that had already fallen on the bed made grabby motions. Sighing softly Peter nodded, before stroking a strand of hair out of Stiles face. 

“Alright. I’ll need a moment to get ready.”

“’kay.”

Peter went to his own room, taking off his clothes and grabbing a pair of sweatpants that he wriggled in, as soon as he had his jeans taken off. Stretching slightly, he grabbed his phone before going back to his sleeping boy, thankful for being barefoot by now. He wondered if Stiles had a problem with him being shirtless, but that could be taken care of fast enough. 

“P’ter?”

Peter smiled before settling down next to Stiles and putting the unused part of the blanket over himself. 

“I’m here, pup.”

Before Peter could decide on how to position himself, Stiles had wriggled closer, draping his body almost completely over Peters and snuffling softly.

“Warm…”, he sighed and Peter smiled, putting his arms around Stiles. He still felt undeserving of the trust Stiles put in him, but he was also more than ready to earn it. His fingers traced shapes on the soft fabric of the shirt Stiles was wearing and Stiles sighed contently.   
Stiles felt warm and soft and floaty. Peter was here and took care of him, he didn’t have to think too much, right? Peter was caressing him and cuddling him and didn’t leave him alone in the dark. He even had remembered to leave the bathroom door ajar and the light in there on, so the bedroom was slightly illuminated. Peter was the best!

“’re th’ bes’…”

Peter chuckled softly, pressing a kiss on the crown of Stiles head. 

The next morning, Stiles felt disoriented and a bit confused. It took a moment until he remembered Peter taking him to bed, how he had held him and stayed with him. Fuck. He felt the heat in his cheeks, remembering how he had whined and asked Peter to stay. And the older wolf had, without any kind of hesitation. The soft smile that crept on his face made him blush even more. Slowly opening his eyes, Stiles was met with naked skin. A lot of naked skin. And chest hair. Curiously he lifted a hand and stroked through the dark curls, awed at the softness. His own chest hair – the bit that was actually there – felt always kind of … coarse? He giggled softly. Peter had soft locks on his chest. And they felt really nice. He kept playing with the short strands of hair until a soft huff made him freeze and look up. Peter had opened one eye and looked at him, with a fond kind of confusion.

“What are you doing, pup?”, he mumbled, his voice still a bit rough from sleep. Stiles felt himself flush and shrugging a bit, he sucked his bottom lip in his mouth. 

“You have soft chest hair.”, Stiles whispered and, following his instincts, rubbed his face on the soft hair. He heard Peter gasp and stopped, looking up with worry in his eyes, but Peter seemed …shocked, but happy? Hell, if Stiles eyes didn’t deceive him, Peter had blushed himself a bit?! 

“Do I now?”

Stiles nodded a soft smile on his face, before cuddling closer again. 

“’ S really soft. And curly.”, he mumbled against the warm skin under his face, starting to play with the man's chest hair again. He wrapped the longer strands around his pinky, lightly tugging or now and then rubbing his cheek against it. “Feels nice.”

Peter felt a low whine in his throat building up. Did that boy realize was he was doing, scenting him like that? Biting his tongue, Peter forced down any kind of improper reactions – including the flashing of his eyes, the dropping of fangs or the sudden appearance of his claws – and put a hand on Stiles neck, softly caressing the soft hairs at his nape. Stiles shuddered – and the scent he emitted smelled even sweeter with a hint of … was that arousal? A smirk found it’s way on Peters lips and as smug as he felt, he didn’t comment on it. Right now, Peter mused, Stiles seemed to be between little and grown-up. Arousal in that state was going to be confusing as it was, any snark from his side would only hurt the boy. And before they didn’t have a good talk about all of that, Peter would never make use of a situation like this. Right now Stiles was simply his little boy. 

“How do you feel, little one?”

Stiles shrugged before trying to hide his face under Peters arm. The man chuckled, pulling Stiles closer. 

“Tell me, please?”

Stiles whined. He felt embarrassed and … what did Peter want to know? 

“’m fine.”

“Are you little Stiles right now, or adult Stiles? Or in between?”

Stiles head shot up and looking at Peter with wonder and a bit of suspicion, Stiles seemed to think about the question. 

“…in… between? I think?”

Peter nodded. 

“Do you want to take a shower together or do you want to take a shower alone later, when you feel bigger?”

Heat rushed in Stiles face and biting his tongue, he sat up, straddling Peter without thinking about it. Did he want to take a shower with Peter? 

“…but no adult stuff, right?”, he asked coyly, looking at Peter from under his lashes. Peter smiled and nodded, putting his hands at Stiles waist and trying to ignore his own growing arousal. It was one thing to ignore the mental aspect of the whole thing – but a wriggling and squirming, very attractive young man on his lap… made it at least physically a bit …harder. And oh god, if Stiles could read thoughts, the young man would laugh himself hoarse. Internally shaking his head, he focused on Stiles and the thoughtful look on the boys face. 

“Okay.”, he mumbled. “Will you wash my hair?”

The slightly hopeful look on Stiles face made Peter melt and with a fond chuckle, he nodded again. 

“Of course, pup. Want to go ahead?”

“Okay!”

And with a lot of flailing the boy climbed off of Peter, not without kneeing him in the crotch, making Peter groan and curl up.

“Sorry.”, a bashful smile grazed Stiles lip and with a sudden glint of mischief in his eyes, he shot a look to the bathroom door. “Last in the shower is a stinker!”

And he shot off. Rolling his eyes Peter thanked werewolf healing and his overall high pain tolerance, before leaving the bed and walking toward the bathroom. Stiles was standing in the middle of the room, the sweatpants and boxers around his ankles and Peters shirt tangled up around his arms and head. Snorting Peter leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms in front of his chest. 

“Stinker, hm?”

Stiles whined a truly pathetic sound and Peter outright laughed, before slowly coming closer and dodging Stiles flailing. 

“Help meeeee?”

“If you hold still, pup, I will.”

Stiles froze In place immediately and shaking his head, he grabbed the shirt, one wrist of Stiles and started to untangle the mess. 

“How did you manage to get yourself in that mess, pup?”, Peter chided, tugging here and there before the tangled fabric revealed the flushed face of his boy. 

“Hurried.”

“And what did you learn?”

Stiles shrugged, pouting and looking to the side. Peter shook his head. 

“Stiles? Answer.”

The boys gaze focused on him and with a huff, Stiles started mumbling.

“To take my time?”

Peter nodded, getting rid of the last tangles and pulling the shirt over Stiles head, so the boy stood there in the nude. Wolves didn’t care much about nudity one way or another, but a quick look to Stiles still made Peter feel hot all over. The boy was half-hard, blush traveling down his chest and with a huff turned towards the shower. Peter closed his eyes to not stare at Stiles butt, before taking a deep breath, shedding his own sweatpants and opening the shower doors. 

“Want me to first make sure that the temperature’s right?”

Stiles nodded, still standing there with crossed arms and staring ahead. With a sigh, Peter turned the knobs of the shower, before turning towards Stiles and putting his hands on the boys shoulders. Softly he turned him towards himself, making sure to look Stiles in the eyes, before speaking.

“If you’re uncomfortable, we can shower separate, you know that, right?”  
Stiles nodded, grabbing Peters wrist. 

“You can always say, when something makes you uncomfortable or when you don’t want something at all.”

“I know, Peter. I want to. Just … nervous.”

He smiled softly, came closer and leaned his forehead against Stiles.

“It’s different in a grown-up body, right?”

Stiles nodded, closing eyes and exhaling with a soft shudder. 

“But it’s different, right? No adult stuff. Just because-“

Peter nodded.

“Completely different. If you’re not comfortable with anything physical happening while you’re feeling more little, that’s perfectly fine.”

“And … and if I feel big and I want?”, Stiles whispered hesitantly. Peter chuckled, before pressing a kiss on Stiles temple. 

“Then we will talk about that, when you’re big and decide from there.”

“Okay.”

Stiles had a shy smile on his face, before leaning forward himself and pecking Peters cheek, before shuffling in the shower and sighing audibly.   
Peter grinned, feeling the heat of Stiles lips rushing through his body. This boy… He joined Stiles, closing the shower doors and grabbing one of the loofahs. 

“Good?”

“Mhmm…”

Smiling Peter grabbed the body wash, squirting a bit of it on the sponge and lathering it up. The scent of grapefruit spread) in the shower stall, gladly a light smell and nothing overpowering. Looking at Stiles and his closed eyes, Peter stood behind the boy, Stiles back to his chest, before he started washing the boys back. Stiles made soft humming noised, while Peter washed him, while the wolf methodically worked his way towards Stiles arms, earning a giggle when he washed the boys armpits, a squeak when he touched Stiles butt and back of his thighs and finally a little grumble when he told Stiles to turn around. Stiles was flushed, his cock fully erect, but Peter ignored it. With soft touches and without the sponge he cleaned Stiles face, with the loofah his neck and chest, carefully the boys tighs, legs, and feet.

“Do you want to wash yourself between your legs?”

Stiles bit his lip, looking at Peter with explicit hesitation. Finally, he took a deep breath and shook his head. 

“Y-You can do it.”

Smiling Peter nodded, putting the Loofah to the side and crouching down. With a last look up to Stiles – who had put two fingers between his lips, and biting on them – Peter tenderly started washing the boys balls, rubbing softly over Stiles taint and taking his time making sure that the boy was clean. He was cut, so there was no trouble with that, but Stiles little gasps went straight to Peters dick. Still – he controlled himself. Stiles had expressed feeling uncomfortable with the thought of doing sexual things while he was feeling little and Peter was going to respect that. Standing up and – again – simply ignoring Stiles flustered state, he grabbed the shampoo, twirling his finger towards Stiles.

“Turn around, pup. Time to wash your hair.”

Stiles nodded and turned. He had goosebumps and with a smile, Peter made sure that Stiles hair was wet enough, before he out in the shampoo and lathered it up. It didn’t take long for the foam to form, but Peter took his time, massaging Stiles scalp and listening to the soft groans and sighs the boy made. Smiling, he also massaged the lightly tense neck of his boy, before carefully maneuvering Stiles under the shower spray to wash away the suds. Rubbing here and there to help the soap dissolve, he held Stiles close. The boy leaned against him and when no more foamy water ran down Stiles body, Peter put his arms around him and held him.

“You alright, pup?”

Stiles nodded. 

“Bit floaty. ‘s good. You make me feel good.”, the boy mumbled and Peter felt pride, possessiveness and joy surge through him. A soft growl escaped his throat when Peter leaned forward and gently scented the boys neck, but Stiles wasn’t scared by the rumble, instead chuckled and leaned his head to the side, to give Peter easier access.

“Thank you.” 

Peter nodded, rubbing his stubbled cheek a last time on Stiles shoulder before straightening himself.

“Thank you, Stiles.”

Stiles smiled, turning around and putting his hands on Peter shoulder, before leaning against the older man and closing his eyes. No matter how vulnerable he felt – how vulnerable he was – with Peter there was no fear there, only safety.


	16. Chapter 16

“Would you be alright with the pack coming over, Stiles?”

Stiles, currently stuffing his cheeks with a muffin Peter had brought from the bakery, nodded. He was only back to residing in his grown-up body for two days now – and he thought that the pack had been patient enough with him and his acclimating-phase. Swallowing the big bite and drinking a big gulp of milk Stiles turned to Derek. 

“’f course. I’m fine, as you can see. And I wouldn’t want the puppies to go mad from not seeing their favorite alpha!”

“Only alpha right now.”, Peter mumbled, stealing a bite of Stiles muffin and smirking when the young man slapped his hand. 

“Unnecessary, Peter!”, Stiles groused before taking the last bit of the muffin. Derek sighed softly, coming closer and grabbing himself an orange. 

“One way or another, we will have to talk about what’s going to happen. As a Beta that refuses pack contact, he’s a danger not just for others but for himself too. You know that Stiles.”

Stiles grumbled, grabbed his phone and left the wolves standing at the kitchen island, while he entered the living room and threw himself on the couch. Without saying anything else to Derek and Peter, Stiles started a text message, biting his tongue and contemplating what to write. From what Allison had told Melissa and Melissa, in turn, telling John and John telling Derek, Peter, and Stiles, Scott wasn’t doing so well. He felt guilty for what happened, felt he was unworthy to be called pack and pretty much isolated himself in the guest bedroom at his, Allisons and Issacs place. 

‘Hey, dude. Stop moping and come over tonight.’

Stiles didn’t exactly expect an immediate answer, but after half an hour and still no sign of life, Stiles grumbled and clicked the call button. Peter and Derek watched him from the kitchen, guessing what the boy was doing and awaiting the result with mixed emotions. 

“Come on, take the fucking call.”

It rang and rang. Stiles was persistent, though. After a minute of nonstop ringing, he finally heard a voice at the other end of the line. 

“What…?”

Scott sounded … tired. Resigned, somehow and Stiles didn’t like it. 

“You got my text?”

“Yes.”

“So, move your ass out of bed, throw on some clothes and come over, dude. We need to talk about some stuff.”

“Stiles, I am … I am so sorry, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Doesn’t need to be a good idea. Two options, Scotty-boy. One – you move your carcass over and we have a talk like the grown-ups we are or two, I’ll come over, probably with some form of bodyguards, throw myself on you and annoy you until you yield.”

Scott huffed a breath, but when he spoke next he sounded …not angry, not annoyed but … tense?

“This is not a joke, Stiles! I almost … I almost hurt you. I could have done worse. I was useless as alpha and stressed and submitting to Derek was the best fucking thing I did, but it doesn’t excuse what happened! I know I –“

“How about you shut the fuck up, Scott.”, Stiles sounded cold and Scott stopped talking.   
“I know. And I am not saying I have forgiven you already, but I want to. And for that to happen, we need to talk. You’re not a monster for reaching the end of your rope, alright? Just … come over, please.”

For a moment there was silence until a barely audible “Alright” sounded and Stiles sighed, relief showing on his face. 

“Alright. The pack comes here around 6, and while they’re shocked and a bit angry, they don’t hate you. Get your ass over before that, so we can talk and stay after, please.”

“Okay. I am pretty sure I have to anyway. Allison starts having that glint in her eyes and starts looking at her stash of wolfsbane more often than not lately.”

Stiles chuckled. 

“Alright. See ya, Scotty.”

“Yeah. Stiles?”

“Yes?”

“I am sorry.”

A soft sigh escaped Stiles and with a fond smile, he closed his eyes.

“I know.”

Scott ended the call and Stiles put his phone to the side before he rubbed over his face with both hands. He exhaled shakily, before turning around and looking at the wolves, staring at him.

“Happy now?”, he grumbled, before laying back down on the couch and throwing an arm over his face. “If one of you growls at him, I am going to be majorly pissed.” 

Derek and Peter chuckled, Peter coming closer and sitting on the armrest of the couch, just above Stiles head. Smiling he started petting the boy, playing with Stiles hair and making sure to lightly scratch over his scalp now and then. Stiles moaned softly, making Peters grin even bigger. Derek simply fake-gagged, rolled his eyes and fled to his room. 

“You cheat. Cheaterwolf. You know head rubs are my weakness. Unfair.”

“You wound me, truly. I don’t cheat, I just make sure I handle any kind of situation …creatively and to my ultimate advantage.”

“Like I said. Cheating cheaterwolf that cheats.”

Chuckling Peter kept caressing the boy and Stiles relaxed further. 

“But seriously, Peter. Don’t make him even more uncomfortable than he already is. I am the one that will make him grovel for a bit, I am the wronged party. If Derek or you make him feel attacked in any kind of way he’s gone and…”

“Don’t worry, pup. I know that, even though your relationship is …strained, he’s your brother.”

Peter sighed.   
“I may be an asshole at times, but I hope you know that I care too much about you to purposefully sabotage a relationship that’s so important to you.”

Stiles stared at Peter for a second, before a high pitched whine escaped his throat and Peter suddenly had a very clingy, octopuslike Stiles wrapped around him. Before he could comprehend what just happened, he suddenly felt dry lips against the corner of his mouth. Peter froze. Stiles froze. And suddenly the boy was clambering away, his face a blotchy red and his mouth going a mile a minute. 

“Oh god, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean – that’s wrong, I DID mean- But I didn’t ask and- Oh god, don’t hate me! I am going to bury a hole and hide inside it, okay? Okay.” 

Stiles had jumped off of the couch and staggered back step by step, but Peter – finally getting over his stupor – grabbed Stiles wrist and pulled. Stiles flew back into Peter, landing halfway on the man's lap, half on the couch and Peter, still shock and amazement on his face, grabbed Stiles face with both hands, before leaning forward and capturing Stiles mouth in a sensual, gentle kiss. The heat surging through Stiles felt unreal and for a second he stared wide-eyed at the closed ones of Peter, before his body finally caught up with his mind and Stiles slumped, closing his eyes and softly recuperating the kiss. Peter growled softly, almost a purr and smiling Stiles couldn’t help but feel the rightness of this. Peters hands on his face made him feel secure, the man didn’t push the kiss, didn’t completely dominate and devour him, but coaxed him into it. When Stiles felt the wet tip of a tongue stroking his bottom lip a full-body shudder made him cling closer to Peter. He tilted his head, opening his mouth a bit and suddenly the gentle probing turned into full-on tongue kissing and want. Fuck, Stiles wanted. A soft moan escaped him and suddenly the confusing feeling of being aware of nothing but the heat of Peters body, his lips and the manly scent enfolding him and the stark, contrasting feeling of being too aware of his surroundings had him in his grip. Stiles didn’t have much experience, and while he wasn’t a virgin (thank you very much!) this … he never had been kissed like this. Never with so much feeling and meaning behind it, never with so much … reverence. Stiles felt goosebumps rise on his skin, wondered if he did it right, if Peter was liking this if he was uncomfortable with Stiles halfway on his lap and what if-   
Peter softly bit his bottom lip, pulling at the soft skin and letting his hands wandering farther down, pulling them flush against each other – in a slightly unconventional pose – but close. Stiles whimpered, heat coiling in his belly and a soft rumble from Peter made him shudder. Throwing his arms around the wolf, Stiles moaned louder, not caring anymore if Derek could hear them, not caring that Scott would be here any minute, not caring that they most likely looked extremely weird, positioned on the armrest and half on the couch, Peter holding him close and Stiles barely hanging on. The soft prick of claws made Stiles shudder and suddenly Peter pulled back.   
He was breathing harshly, a slight flush on his face and his eyes glowing a supernatural, electric blue. Slowly, oh so slowly he pulled his hands back from Stiles backside – Stiles already missed them – and put them on Stiles waist. Exhaling shakily, Peter leaned his forehead against Stiles and chuckled. 

“Oh, pup…”

Stiles smiled and closed his eyes. He felt giddy, but centered and licking his lips, chasing the taste of Peter, he put his hands on Peters shoulders. 

“Hm?”

“You are far too smug for my taste”, Peter grumbled. “Making me lose control like a fucking teenager. If we keep this up, I am going to come in my pants like a thirteen-year-old.” 

Stiles full-on laughed and only moments later Peter joined in. He felt happy. Not weight down by worry, doubt or hesitation. Peter got him. 

“…I am not going to comment on what possibly just happened here, but please. For the love of God or whoever, air the room out before Scott gets here. It stinks.” 

Stiles head shot up, looking at Derek standing in the door and looking at them with a mix of constipation and fondness. Stiles simply shrugged, way too pleased with how his sudden loss of control had played out. 

“Will do, alpha mine.”

Peter simply grumbled, pulling Stiles closer. 

“It doesn’t stink, Derek.” 

“It smells like both of you rubbed one out or are only seconds away of doing so.”, Derek deadpanned, grinning slightly and shaking his head. “Maybe you should get some fresh air, Peter. Your claws are still out.”

Frowning Peter opened his eyes, looking down at his hands and huffed. 

“Fine.”, he mumbled, before gently prying Stiles hands off of him, depositing the boy on the couch and stealing another kiss. “I’ll be outside for a minute. Trying to work off the … energy.”

Stiles cackled and with an eye roll Peter stormed towards the door that led out to the porch. Derek shook his head and pointed to the windows. Stiles, still giggling, nodded and got up, opening the windows of the room and biting his bottom lip. Peter had looked at him like he had questions. And the way he had gotten to know the older wolf, a conversation was soon to be had. Stiles didn’t have it in him to be worried and with a soft hum, he straightened the pillows on the couch. He still felt the energy of the kissing coursing through his veins and looking around, to make sure nobody would see, he couldn’t help engaging in a small victory dance. Fuck, he felt good. It felt so … uncomplicated. Easy as breathing, just better. Smiling and tracing his lips with his fingers, he closed his eyes, leaning against the couch and wondering how far they would have gotten if Derek hadn’t interrupted them. The way he knew Peter and his whole “Consent is sexy, let’s talk”, not much further than a hand under his shirt, but whatever. He never would have guessed that Peter, so in tune with his more animalistic instincts and needs, would be so … considerate? Careful?   
While Stiles wouldn’t mind getting ravaged beyond comprehension, he still felt grateful for Peters reluctance of just jumping in the deep end of the pool first. Sighing and shaking his head slightly, he shot a look outside, but Peter was nowhere to be seen. Giggling he imagined Peter running through the forest, willing his erection down. Stiles himself adjusted himself slightly, blush high on his cheeks and his grin not waning in the slightest. 

“You alright?”, Derek asked, making Stiles jump. 

Stiles grumbled and turned around, poking a finger against Dereks chest. 

“I am going to get you a bell, I swear to every deity known to man, geez.”, he took a deep breath, before nodding and grinning at his alpha. “I- yeah. I am feeling really, really good.”

Derek, hearing the sudden softness in Stiles voice, smiled and clapped the boy on the shoulder, before pulling him into a hug. 

“I am happy for you two.”

“So no problem? No shovel talk?”

Derek laughed and shook his head. 

“You two deserve each other. Besides, if you hurt each other, both of you are more than capable of making the other one's life hell.” 

“True that.”

“And I am pretty sure, Peter already got a shovel talk from your dad.”

“And I am not getting one from you?”

Derek smirked, tilting his head a bit and thinking about it. Finally he shrugged. 

“We’ll see. Right now you’re in a good mood and I won’t ruin that. But that talk will come!”

Walking backward, not leaving Stiles out of sight he pointed to fingers at his eyes, then at Stiles and when Stiles cracked and laughed, so did Derek. 

“But for real”, Derek chuckled. “Don’t hurt him intentionally. He really cares about you.”

Stiles blushed again, nodded slightly and went to the kitchen, softly humming. Derek watched him, shaking his head slightly. These two.


	17. Chapter 17

Twenty minutes later Dereks head shot up from the book he was reading and Stiles, sensing the shift in tension looked at his alpha, a questioning expression on his face. Derek sighed.

“Scott is close. Want me to stall Peter a bit?”

Stiles took a deep breath, before nodding. Derek smiled before leaving the living room and going out on the porch. He would worry about Peter, but their pack bond was still bright in his mind, telling him about Peters happiness and excitement – and his annoyance. Probably at himself, Derek thought, grinning slightly. Rolling his shoulders and throwing a last glance back at the house, he wandered out in the preserve to find Peter. 

When the knock on the door finally came Stiles shook his hands, rolled his neck and took a deep breath. The last time he had seen Scott, the boy had attacked him and shouted abuse. But Stiles was a fucking grown up and he would handle it like one. With determination he stepped to the door, swinging it open and revealing a downtrodden looking Scott. The former alpha didn’t even meet his eyes and with a soft sigh, Stiles stepped closer.

“Scott?”

“I am so sorry Stiles.”

Fuck, Scott was crying. He finally looked up and Stiles could see the dark bags under his brother's eyes, the pain in them and the tears streaming over his cheeks. 

“I am so fucking sorry, I just- I won’t spout some excuses, what I did was unforgivable and I don’t understand why you would even want to see me. I don’t want to see me. I almost- I could have-“

Before Scott could say anything more, Stiles pulled the boy in a hug, ignoring how Scott froze for a moment, before starting to full-on sob and clinging to him. Caressing Scotts back, Stiles closed his eyes, breathing in the familiar smell of his best friend – yes, he was still his best friend, he decided – he pulled him even closer against his body. 

“It’s not unforgivable, Scott. It’s not your decision to make if something that you did is forgivable or not.”, he mumbled against Scott's neck. “You fucked up, but you’re sorry.”

Scott nodded softly, before he started to talk, interrupted by his hiccupping sobs now and then.

“I am sorry, Stiles. You’re my brother, my best friend. Please, never doubt that. I fucked up. More than once, in the last few years, I know that. And I know that I don’t deserve you in any kind of way, but you’ve always been so fucking loyal and I am thankful for that.”, Scott took a deep breath. “Being an alpha, I … I thought I was managing. But with Allison and Isaac, with the job and… it was too much. I already felt like a fluke, like a complete failure. I didn’t … I couldn’t admit to anyone that I was struggling, I was the alpha and suddenly you were a kid and I … I always depended on you to have a plan. To make things right or steer me in the right direction, and that’s shitty. And I knew you were struggling too and I didn’t know how I could help you and … and suddenly you were a little kid and you were carefree and happy and … fuck, I was jealous and angry at myself for being jealous and … I am so sorry, Stiles.”

Listening to Scott rambling Stiles felt tears gathering in his eyes and suppressing them from falling, Stiles ruffled Scotts hair. 

“I … I was scared. And I was angry. Disappointed. But I understand what drove you to this. And I think, you not being an alpha anymore is probably a good thing, right? This way we can just be … friends. We can be just friends again, without any hierarchy shit mudding the waters. We’ve been through enough shit.”

Scott nodded, carefully drawing back from the hug and looking at Stiles. He seemed relieved and a small smile graced his lips. 

“You are amazing, you know that, right?”

Stiles laughed and rubbed the heel of his hand against his eyes.

“Not really, bro. Just me.”

Scott gently bumped his shoulder and with a chuckle, Stiles turned around and entered the house.

“Come one. If it gets too cold inside, Derek will rant about the cost of heating again.”  
Smiling, though hesitantly, Scott followed Stiles, closing the door behind him. He obviously still felt a bit uncomfortable, but Stiles was sure that sooner rather than later he would find his balance again. 

“Is it really okay for me being here?”

Stiles nodded, pointing towards the porch.

“Derek and Peter are just taking a stroll to give us some privacy. Want something to drink?” 

Scott nodded and followed Stiles into the kitchen, but a waft of something made him scrunch up his nose. 

“….Dude.”

“Hm?”

“Dude, did you and Peter fuck in the living room or something? I mean – I don’t want to be rude, that would be- I just-“

Laughing Stiles clapped Scott on the shoulder before grabbing some glasses out of the cabinet and putting them on the kitchen isle. 

“It’s alright Scotty, and no. We… kissed earlier. It got a bit heated.” 

Scotts face made Stiles laugh again and shaking his head he opened the refrigerator. 

“Coke, Sprite, a beer, water, juice?”

Shaking his head, Scott sat down on one of the barstools. 

“Cokes fine. So … is it recent?”

Stiles nodded, looking at Scott and observing his face. 

“You got a problem with that?”

“What? No. I mean, I’ll probably never be Peters biggest fan, but … you do you, dude. You two kind of fit together perfectly, in a really creepy way.”

Stiles eyebrows rose and chuckling softly, he served Scott and himself a glass of coke, before sitting down too. 

“I … was that a compliment? I am going to take it as a compliment.”, Stiles grinned. 

Scott shook his head, smiling, took his glass and took a sip. Stiles could see, that he was still feeling unbalanced and tracing the rim of his glass, he thought of what to say or do, to make Scott more comfortable. 

“Do you think they can forgive me too…? I mean… I attacked you and then fought Derek, I just-“

“Calm down, bud. They’ll be alright.”

“Mhm.”

Stiles exhaled swiftly, took a sip of his coke and leaned forward. 

“How are things with Alli and Isaac?”

Scott shrugged, playing with the condensation left on the table. 

“Kind of …tense. Even though that’s my fault. I know they were shocked and angry, even if they knew about my …problems. And I know they talked to Derek at some point. And they tried to talk to me for quite a while. I just felt so … inadequate?”

“Big word.”

“Har har.”

Stiles grinned. 

“Well, I just … I think maybe you were right. I wallowed long enough and talking it out maybe helps. I missed you guys. All of you.”

“Missed you too, buddy.”

“Heard from Alli that you took care of the problem?”

“Mhm…”

Sighing Scott rubbed both hands over his face. 

“I hate that it always has to kill or be killed. I guess it’s good, that it’s not my decision and responsibility to make these calls anymore…”

Stiles nodded, grabbing Scotts hand and gripping it slightly. Scott smiled self-deprecatingly and closed his eyes for a second. 

“Peter?” 

“What.”

Derek chuckled, watching his uncle walk in circles around a smaller tree, trying to calm himself down. Peter felt antsy. First, it was the arousal and energy building between him and Stiles and now? Scott was there with Stiles alone. He trusted Derek and his boy with their assessment of the situation, but it still didn’t feel good to have someone he cared about being alone with a potential threat. It would probably take some time before Peter could be relaxed when Stiles and Scott spent some time alone. 

“You are kind of ridiculous and I love it.”

Peter shot a glare at his nephew, growling slightly and shaking his head, he tipped his head back, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. 

“Shut up.”

“Never. It’s truly hilarious. The epitome of control Peter, losing it because of a bit of making out. It’s truly fantastic. I will keep this image deep inside me to get out on rainier days.”

“Hilarious.”, Peter deadpanned and shaking out his arms, he stepped closer. “What was your feeling of Scott?”

Derek observed his uncle, saw the tension and worry in his body language and smiled softly. 

“Remorse. First and foremost. That and guilt, shame and fear of rejection. He’s truly sorry.”

Peter huffed, scratching slightly at his stubbled jaw and looking at the slowly darkening sky. 

“Think we can go back?”

Derek nodded. The pack bond with Scott was weak at the moment, but there and he got no aggression or fear or anything worrisome from either Stiles or the former alpha. 

“They’re alright. Feels like they talked it out.”

Scott tensed up and just when Stiles wanted to ask what was wrong the porch door opened and Derek and Peter entered the living room. With a pat on Scott's shoulder, Stiles got up and walked towards the wolves. Derek put his hand on Stiles neck for a second to scent him, before nodding to Peter and stepping closer to Scott. The former alpha had gotten up, looking shaky and his eyes lowered to the ground. Stiles stepped towards Peter, let himself be engulfed by the strong arms of his wolf and turned around, so they stood chest to back. Peter put his arms around him, nuzzling against his neck and watching the interaction between Derek and Scott.

“Scott?”

“I am so sorry, Alpha.”

Before Derek could say or do anything, Scott bared his throat, a desperate glint in his eyes and with a huff Derek leaned forward, placing his teeth gently against the juncture between neck and shoulder. Scott shuddered before slumping slightly and Derek grabbed his arms to hold him up.

“It’s alright, Scott. We all make mistakes. Are you really …alright, with submitting to me?”

Scott showed a weak smile and softly nuzzling against Dereks shoulder he nodded.

“Yeah. As bad as I felt for how it happened, I’ve also felt relieved since I got rid of the alpha spark.”

Derek nodded knowingly, grasping Scotts neck and smiling. 

“Okay. Welcome back.”, he said. “The pack will arrive in about twenty minutes, so steel yourself for some lectures.”

Scott winced but nodded. Especially Erica would rip him a new one, maybe Lydia too, but all in all – he felt happier. Lighter somehow. Smiling he looked at Peter and Stiles, sawing them like that still felt strange, but … it fit. With a nod to Peter he stepped closer and the wolf raised a brow. 

“I am sorry, Peter.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me, boy. You have wronged Stiles, not me.”

Scott flinched a bit, not seeing how Stiles pushed his elbow in Peters midriff. 

“I know. And I already apologized. But I also want to apologize to you, for endangering and attacking someone you obviously care about.”, Scott mumbled. “I hope at one point you can … I don’t know? Trust me? Probably not. But …tolerate and accept me?”

Peter observed the coiled tension in Scotts body and heard Stiles huff slightly before he rolled his eyes and nodded.

“If Stiles is good, I am good, Scott. I am not … happy with what happened. But you are a part of this pack, you are Stiles friend and … like Derek said. We all make mistakes.”

Scott looked surprised before a small grin showed on his face. With a jerky nod, he stepped back a bit, obviously relieved to also have Peters approval. While Peter couldn’t fathom why it mattered, Stiles found it adorable. He could guess why Scott felt the need to make sure he and Peter were at least on slightly amicable ground, before facing the rest of the pack.


	18. Chapter 18

Only a few minutes later the pack started trickling in, looking between Peter and Stiles – most of them grinning while doing so – before acknowledging Scott and Derek and slightly glaring. The whole explosive lectures Stiles had expected fell flat, some of them simply opting to smack Scott on the back of his head, before rolling their eyes and getting comfortable on the couch. While Scott seemed overwhelmed by the lack of aggression, Derek was proud. The – HIS pack, had come a long way from the ragtag bunch of issue riddled teens, they once were. 

“I am ordering Chinese, any special wishes?”

Between a chorus of different menu options, Derek chuckled before grabbing the phone.

“Sooo.”, Erica drawled, looking at Peter and Stiles. Stiles had plopped on Peters lap as soon as the man had sat down and with a lascivious grin, the blonde observed them. 

“When did that happen?”

Stiles groaned, Peter simply rolled his eyes and while the rest of the pack made their interest known, Stiles explained in short how they found their way to each other. Erica wolf-whistled when Stiles told them about the kiss – not because he went into detail, but because she could see and smell Peters reaction to it. 

Surprisingly (at least to Peter) no one in the pack seemed to have a problem with them being together, even though they didn’t exactly define the parameters of their relationship yet. Stiles was a comfortable, relaxing weight on him, smelling content and happy. Peter smiled. 

The next week was spent cuddling (and making out, let’s be real) with Peter, finding his bearings again and contemplating what to do in the near future. While he did like his work at the nursery, he also felt more motivated to start on his shop. He felt overall more energized, closer to the pack and more anchored in his life than ever before. The relationship with his dad was striving and he saw the man more often than before the “Shrinking incident”. Now, laying on top of Peter, having the man caressing his neck, he felt excited about the future. 

“Peter?”

“Mhm?”

“I’ve been thinking.”, he mumbled, rubbing his cheek against Peters chest. The wolf rumbled contently. 

“What a feat that must have been.”

Stiles punched the man on the shoulder, eliciting a chuckle and grumbling, Stiles sat up a bit more and looked at his … boyfriend? Another thing to think about.

“I am serious.”

“Alright, pup. What have you been thinking about?”, Peter smiled, looking up to him. 

Stiles sighed. 

“A lot. I want to quit my job.” 

Peters eyebrows rose and with a grin, he pressed a kiss on Stiles jaw. 

“Alright.”

“But I need money.”

“You have me.”

Stiles groaned, flopping back down on the man and exhaling with a huff. 

“I don’t want charity, Peter. I want to focus on the shop and I-“

“You know as good as I do, pup, that it wouldn’t be charity. I enjoy taking care of and spoiling you.”, Peter interrupted. “You know that we, as a pack, are more than willing to invest in your shop and the way I know you, you want to pay it back somehow, and that’s alright. But until then, pack takes care of their own.”

Stiles grumbled for a second before slowly nodding.

“Still, that’s one thing. Derek told me that months ago, but … what about now? I need food. And my meds. And water and electricity and stuff would be good too.”   
Chuckling Peter grabbed Stiles neck, feeling the boy going lax against him and sighing shakily. 

“You could stay with me. My apartment isn’t too far from the shop, my job is mostly sporadic and if I work, I am working from home. I would enjoy helping you get the shop ready – and not just me. I heard Erica is already planning a mural for the back wall.”

Snuffling, Stiles closed his eyes. 

“I heard. It just feels so… it feels like I am using you.”, he finally whispered, pressing closer. “And I am not. I just …”

“Darling.”, Peter murmured. “I enjoy taking care of you. Financially I could take care of you and the pack as a whole until you settle in a retirement home or something. I could buy and build up dozens of shops without making a noticeable dent on my bank account.”

Stiles nodded.

“And I know we haven’t talked about it yet, but what I told you last week is still on the table. I enjoy taking care of you – in every way. Let’s face it, waking up to your lovely, drooling face every morning, cooking food for you and making sure you’re thriving … I probably get more out of that than you do.”

With a huff, Stiles nuzzled his face in the crook of Peters neck and smiling he thought about it. He pretty much had been living with Peter for almost two months by now. Yes, they hadn’t really defined their relationship yet, but …well, they were close. And Stiles could always move out if it didn’t work out. Gnawing on his bottom lip he looked up at Peter. 

“You sure?”

The answering smile was blinding and blushing Stiles smiled back. 

“It would be my honor, pup.”

Rolling his eyes, Stiles sat up and looked down at his wolf. So far nothing more than light petting had happened and …he was comfortable with that. They took it slow, enjoying each other and savoring the little moments they spent together. 

“Okay.” 

“Okay? “

“Yeah. I’ll move in with you. And you can help me with the shop.”

“Alright, darling.”, Peter rumbled pleased. “You are telling the pack and your father though.”

With a groan, Stiles crawled off of Peter and buried his face in a pillow.

“You suck.”

“Only if you ask nicely.”

Blushing, Stiles flipped Peter the bird. 

It took another week for Stiles to move in with Peter. The talk with the pack and his father had gone surprisingly well – and the move for that matter too. While Peter wasn’t all too comfortable with the whole pack knowing where he lived, he was okay with it. The pack helped Stiles carry the few boxes of things while Peter resigned himself to make dinner for the bunch. While Stiles didn’t have a lot of big things, he had boxes full of trinkets and Peter wasn’t sure if he was overjoyed of seeing Stiles cluttering up his space with them or if he dreaded it. One way or another they would deal and seeing Stiles face the first time he officially entered THEIR apartment now, was something he would treasure. Stiles hadn’t been here before, expecting the wolf's den to be minimalistic and modern – instead, it was homey, with warm colors, wood, and oozing comfort. He couldn’t wait to spend his time here with Peter, sitting at the dining table and planning his shop, cooking together in the kitchen and sleeping in the truly decadent four-poster, king-sized bed Peter had in his – their! – bedroom.   
Peter was stirring a scarily big pot of marinara sauce, made from scratch of course when he suddenly felt two lanky arms wrapping around his mid. Smiling he kept stirring, putting on of his hands on Stiles, entwining their fingers. 

“You alright?”

Stiles nodded against his back humming softly. 

“Exhausted. Less from the physical stuff, more from the whole …”, with one hand he gestured at …Peter wasn’t sure what, but he still got what his boy meant. “And I can’t wait to cuddle up with you on that couch and watch a movie, after dinner.”

Warmth filled Peter and smiling he nodded. 

“I have to admit, that does sound lovely. Have you already started unpacking some of your things?”

Stiles again nodded, this time with a quiet groan. 

“I managed to put most of my clothes away. Thank you for the extra dresser. It’s a bit big though.”

Smirking Peter shrugged. 

“Just you wait.”, he exclaimed, lifting the spoon to taste the sauce. “Let’s face it, I will take you shopping as soon as you feel like you actually live here.”

Groaning Stiles let go of him, stumbling back and leaning against the counter. 

“Shopping?”

“Shopping. I won’t throw any of your things out, pup, but I want my boy to have everything.” 

Winking towards Stiles, he noticed the light blush on the boys face and grinned. They would need to have their talk and soon.  
But seriously, one way or another, Peter couldn’t wait to dress Stiles in the finest fabrics, in some more grown-up clothes – and to be fair, he also had his eyes on a pair of adorable onesies. He had already considered buying them, but that would have to wait. Peter first needed to test the waters. 

“Fine. Don’t think I can change your mind anyway.”, Stiles grumbled and slapped Peters butt, before leaving the kitchen. “They’re bringing up the last boxes right now, then we can eat.”

Grinning Peter nodded.

“Alright with me. I already put out the plates and cutlery. The spaghetti should be finished in just a few minutes.”

Stiles pressed a quick kiss to Peters lips, turned around and tended to another one of his trinket boxes before dinner was ready and the pack started acting as if they were actually starving. While Peter seemed to have no problem with making space for Stiles here, he still felt a bit like an intruder. The style of Peters apartment was …mature. Sophisticated. Sure, there were a few Sci-Fi-books on the shelves and a few DVDs one wouldn’t necessarily think Peter would like, but other than that? Every piece of decoration seemed to just fit and have meaning and Stiles?   
Stiles just had little things he liked. Like the POP-figures he had collected for a while, saving up his money with the odd jobs here and there and everything that didn’t go into keeping Roscoe up and running was invested in various comic book and movie-related things. The figures, actual movie posters, little action figures, cards, key-chains, and other small stuff. Yes, he also had pictures of his mom and dad and the pack that he would put up somewhere with Peters okay, but other than that? He felt like a child. And on one hand that made him feel inadequate, childish and willingly obtuse to adult-life – on the other hand? This stuff made him happy. Not just the flashy X-box or Playstationgames, but the pillowcases and bedsheets, the blankets and plushies and figures. It made him happy to focus on made-up people and their made-up problems. In the movies, series, and comics he liked there sure as fuck was bad stuff happening, but in the end, they muddled through somehow. Sighing softly he poked a stuffed little Batmanplushie in the stomach, before putting it back in the box. 

“Hey, Peter?”

“Yes, pup?”

“Where can I put the boxes with shit that I don’t know where to pot yet?”

Peter looked around the corner, a smile making the soft lines around his eyes a bit more prominent and with a wave of his hand he beckoned Stiles closer. Confused Stiles came closer, letting Peter draw him into a gentle hug, tilting his head a bit to the side and letting the wolf scent him. 

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll show you later.”

While Stiles could feel that something was afoot, the proximity to Peter always made him too relaxed to fret about things like that. 

“…okay.”


	19. Chapter 19

Just a moment later the door swung open, revealing Derek, Erica, Isaac, and Scott, the latter loaded with the last three boxes and grinning a bit helplessly. With a snort Stiles took the top one, putting it down close to the others and out of the way, before watching Scott almost tripping while doing the same. While the pack as a whole had forgiven Scott for his stunt and welcomed him back with open arms, especially Erica still felt like some sort of amends had to be made – the other ones just let her be and Scott accepted it with good grace. 

“Come on, my handsome little helpers. Dinner’s almost ready, so wash up and sit down, will ya?”

Peter rolled his eyes before straining the pasta and starting to put the noodles and the sauce into their serving bowls, while Stiles started to grab the drinks, the parmesan, and some more napkins. There was a bit of cajoling heard while the four washed their hands, probably elbowing each other in the sides to be first, but Stiles just chuckled, not paying it much attention. Stretching a bit he watched Peter putting the bowls on the table before sitting down and a few moments later the other four came back to the – and get that! – dining room, choosing their seats. 

“Thank you guys for the help.”, Stiles began. “And thank you Peter for dinner. It smells amazing!” 

“Hear, hear!” 

Peter preened, watching the few pack members serving themselves and shortly after almost inhaling their food. The moans Erica and Stiles let lose made everyone freeze for a second and Peter was flattered, but everybody was too hungry and the food too good to waste time by any kind of comments. Derek had closed his eyes at one point, smiling softly. He had missed his uncle's cooking, the older wolf often making almost exactly this dish, when he had been on babysitting duty for Laura, Derek, and Cora. 

“This is so amazing”, Isaac mumbled, staring at his plate like it personally offended him. “It’s just marinara and spaghetti, how the fuck is it this amazing?!”

Grinning Peter put a bit more parmesan on his plate, before giving the bowl to Stiles who looked adorable and a bit like a hamster with his full cheeks. 

“’s good. Sooooo good.”

“Swallow before you speak, pup.”

Stiles rolled his eyes and the others already expecting a dirty remark groaned, stopping Stiles in his tracks and earning them a pout. 

“You all suck.”

“Well, I can’t speak for the others, but I do.”, Peter grinned, earning another groan and making Isaac put his hands over his ears, loudly humming out of tune. Stiles simply had gone beet red, a mischievous glint in his eyes.  
Throwing his hands up in defeat, Stiles focused back on eating, ignoring the cackling and groaning around him. The pasta Peter made really was incredibly good and with a soft sigh, he licked the last bit of sauce off of his plate. He was aware of the intense look of Peter on him and grinning he dipped his finger in a bit of sauce, before putting it in his mouth and – keeping eye contact with Peter – starting to suck it clean. Peter growled and suddenly there was movement around them.

“Alright, that’s it. Thank for dinner, we’re taking the leftovers, see you soon!”

And while Erica looked as if she was ready to physically fight Derek to stay and see how this would play out, Isaac and Scott stood already by the door, looking slightly constipated and wriggling on the spot as if he had to pee. 

“Come on, guys. I really, really don’t need to see this. I can’t afford that amount of therapy!”

With a last cackle and a playful growl, Erica let Derek drag her to the door and with a last wink, the alpha closed the door behind him. Peter stood up, looking like a predator ready to pounce on its prey and Stiles swallowed heavily. 

“Um.”

“Dare say, pup, are you seriously teasing me right now?”, he growled and Stiles felt the adrenaline rushing his system.

“M-Maybe.”

Peter came closer, slowly, before resting his hands on the armrests of Stiles chair, effectively pinning him in place. 

“And did you think this little game of yours through, pup? About how I would react to that?”, he whispered, the tip of his tongue tracing the shell of Stiles ear, before taking the lobe between his teeth and slightly pulling. Stiles whimpered. 

“N-No.”

“No what, pup…?”

Peter knew he was playing a dangerous game right now, not wanting to push Stiles to far, but the obvious smell of arousal in the air made him a bit braver. 

“N-No, I didn’t think it through, D-Daddy.” 

Shame flooded Stiles scent for a second and he could feel the rising heat in Stiles face – that wouldn’t do. With a soft purr, he grabbed Stiles by the waist and lifted him up. With a meep, Stiles threw his arms around Peter. 

“Good boy.”, Peter rumbled, capturing Stiles mouth in a searing kiss, before steadily strutting toward the bedroom. He wouldn’t take it too far tonight – but they could play a bit. “Such a good boy for your daddy, aren’t you pup?”

Stiles whimpered again, nodding swiftly, clinging to Peters strong shoulders and rubbing against his belly. Peter could feel the erection pressing against him and with a growl he kicked open the bedroom door – the other room would have to wait.   
He didn’t throw Stiles on the bed like the animalistic and primal part of his brain wanted to, instead lowered him on the mattress, before prowling up and over Stiles body. Stiles was trembling slightly, the blotchy blush on his face seemingly traveling farther down and with a soft chuckle, Peter started to nip at Stiles jaw. 

“Will you let me take care of you, pup?”

Stiles closed his eyes. 

“Y-Yes, Daddy. Please.” 

Peter hold back his moan – but the rumbling in his chest told Stiles everything he needed to know about Peters stance on things. Swiftly deft and talented hands rucked up his shirt, tracing the faint outlines of the muscles on Stiles belly and chest, caressing and lightly tweaking a nipple and listening to Stiles wet gasp. Peter groaned, replacing one of his hands with his mouth, trailing the paths his hands made before. His lips closed around one of Stiles nipples, sucking ever so gently. Stiles whined high in his throat, throwing one arm over his face to dampen the sounds he made, but Peter grabbed his wrist and pulled it away.

“Let me hear you, little one.”, he whispered, before closing his teeth around the already slightly abused nub, making Stiles moan. Peter couldn’t help himself. The light sheen of sweat on the younger man's body tasted delicious, the scent he was emitting was sweet and sharp, speaking of arousal and excitement. 

“So beautiful, pup.”

Stiles tried shaking his hand, but Peter tweaked his nipple again, eliciting a high moan. 

“No talking back.”, Peter chided. “You’re magnificent, darling. All this pale skin, bruising up so beautifully for me. All the little sounds you make. Your scent …”

Peter groaned, rubbing his stubbled jaw against Stiles belly, making the boy giggle breathlessly and feeling Stiles relaxing slightly, Peter looked up. 

“Tell me what you want, darling.”

Stiles looked like a deer in headlights, his scent shifting and Peter rose his eyebrows. 

“Or do you want me to set the pace?”

His boy bit his bottom lip, flushed and shily nodding. Peter smirked, crawled upwards and kissed Stiles breathless. 

“Alright. Are you familiar with the stoplight system?”, Peter breathed and felt more than saw Stiles nodding. “All good, green. Yellow, slow down. Red, stop. We will talk more in-depth about things at a later time, darling, but for right now we’ll take it slow.”

“O-Okay, daddy.”

Peter couldn’t deny the rush that went through him on hearing Stiles saying these words. 

“Good boy. I am going to undress you now, kiss you until you can’t remember your own name and afterward, I am going to allow myself a more … intimate taste of you. Color?”

Stiles looked at him with wide blown pupils, breathing heavy and nodding shakily.

“G-Green. All the green.”

“Good.”

Peter did take his time with undressing his boy, exploring every single inch of skin he laid bare, whispering sweet nothings and watching how goosebumps rose and Stiles started to tremble more and more. 

“Color, pup?”

“S-Still green. Just… p-please Daddy. Need you to touch me.”

The pleading undertone undid Peter in less than a second and the rest of Stiles clothes left his body quickly. He shed his shirt and jeans too, leaving his own boxers on for now. He took a moment simply looking at Stiles. Undressed, slightly sweaty with ruffled hair and flushed cheeks. His cock, not the smallest, he had to find out to his excitement, was hard and straining, a few drops of precoma already pooling close to Stiles bellybutton.  
“Beautiful.”, he breathed, marveling at how the blush on Stiles face traveled lower to his chest. He trialed his nails slowly down his boys chest, through the soft, barely noticeable chest hair and the slightly darker happy trail.   
He leaned forward, pressing his face in the crook of Stiles thigh, breathing in the arousal and musk of his boy, growling quietly and to stop the boys squirming, he put his hands on Stiles hips and held him still.

“Mind if I explore here, pup?”

Stiles whined, one hand grabbing Peters hair and with a shake of his head, he obviously tried to gather his thoughts enough to form a coherent sentence.

“P-Please.”

“My pleasure, darling.”

And without further ado, Peter started nibbling of the soft skin of Stiles thighs, licking wet stripes and blowing on them, enjoying the way Stiles shuddered and moaned. He had sworn himself to take it slow, had told Stiles too – and he would abide his own rules. His hands wandered lower, grabbing Stiles ass and gently starting to kneed the supple flesh, while his mouth found it’s way closer and closer to Stiles cock and balls. He knew that Stiles wasn’t a virgin anymore, but exactly how much experience did his boy have?

“Color?”, he rasped, looking up at Stiles, his face red, mouth open and watching Peter as if he was the second coming of Jesus.

“Green. Green, Daddy, please!”

With this last affirmation, Peter leaned down, letting his tongue trail over Stiles tightly drawn balls, eliciting a breathy moan from the boy under him. The grip in his hair got stronger, but not uncomfortable and with a shark-like grin, Peter dove in.   
He sucked on of Stiles balls in his mouth, lightly nipping at the soft skin, before trailing upwards. He had loved eating out the few partners he had felt comfortable with – with Stiles he would have to wait a little bit longer. He didn’t want to scare his boy away, with something too intense too fast. Instead, he let his lips trail up the boys cock, enjoying the velvety feel of it before he closed his lips around the fat head and closed his eyes. The salty taste of precome on his tongue made him moan around the flesh in his mouth, which in turn made Stiles whimper, slightly overwhelmed. 

“D-Daddy…!”

Peter shot a last look up at his boy, before he truly went to town, engulfing Stiles cock in the wet, plush heat of his mouth, starting slow and gentle, sucking on him and concentrating on the heavy feel of Stiles cock on his tongue. The sounds Stiles made got louder, more frantic and he started to pull more on Peters hair, making him groan. The vibration from that made Stiles shudder and relaxing his throat, Peter sank down to the hilt. It had been a while since he deepthroated someone, but apparently, for him, it was like riding a bike. Grinning at Stiles shout he started to suck in earnest, and before Stiles could really warn him, Peter felt salty wetness spilling down his throat. Swallowing and rubbing himself against the mattress, Peter felt himself coming with a muffled moan. Slowly he lifted himself up, licking his lips and looking at Stiles and the magnificent wreck he had made of the boy. Stiles was breathing hard, still shuddering from aftershocks and with a soft giggle, the boy closed his eyes. 

“Fuck. That was awesome.”

“Glad you enjoyed it, my sweet boy.”

Stiles smile got fond and with a coy tilt of his head, he looked down at Peters crotch and the wet patch growing on his boxers. 

“And you, daddy?”

Peter groaned, settling next to Stiles and pulling the boy in his arms. 

“You made me come in my underwear like a teenager.”


	20. Chapter 20

“So…”

Peter looked up, his head on Stiles chest and gently caressing Stiles side. 

“So?”

“The whole…”, Stiles gestured wildly with one hand. “…daddy-thing.”

Peter chuckled and sat up, leaning on his elbow and focusing on Stiles face. The boy still was blotchy red in the face but his heartbeat had calmed down and his scent. Peter could die happily with this smell in his nose. Content and happy and eager. 

“Yes?”

“Is that a thing?”

Rolling his eyes slightly and smiling he sat up completely, resting against the headboard and pulled Stiles on his lap. 

“If you want it to be?”

Stiles seemed to contemplate it for a moment, the confusion and slight frustration in his face was adorable and Peter snuffled softly against the tufts of hair sticking up from Stiles hair. 

“I just. It feels weird. But good.”, Stiles mumbled. “Like, I don’t think I have super-duper heavy daddy-issues or something and I seriously can’t remember the last time I called my dad ‘Daddy’, but it still…”

“Sweet boy, it doesn’t have to mean anything. And if it makes you uncomfortable we simply won’t do it again.”, Peter mumbled and rubbed his nose against Stiles temple. The boy huffed, turned around slightly and straddled Peter. 

“That’s it though. It doesn’t … it doesn’t make me uncomfortable. It …feels right.”, Stiles leaned his forehead against Peters and closed his eyes. “It feels like it should feel weird. But it doesn’t.”

His voice had gotten quieter to the end of his sentence and Peter rumbled gently, putting his hands on Stiles waist and circling his thumb over the soft skin. 

“It’s your decision, darling. I told you, that I like taking care of you.”

Should he show Stiles the room? Shouldn’t he?

“But … isn’t it like… weird for you?”, Stiles needled, looking up with sincere insecurity in his eyes and Peter sighed. 

“If I show you something, will you promise me to not go running straight for the hills screaming?”

Stiles eyes widened and he swallowed with a click. 

“Is it a torture dungeon? Or- or … or some sort of medical set up? Because dude, that would be a bit much.”

Peter huffed, shaking his head. 

“I might have …gone a bit overboard.”, he softly admitted. “The last few weeks as a kid made you feel good, right?”

Stiles nodded, not yet catching up with what Peter was saying.

“The lack of responsibility, the freedom of just taking a nap or playing and not having to make decisions. That someone took care of you.”

Stiles stilled and nodded again. 

“I’ve read about something like this once, I think.”, he murmured, looking at Peter with wide eyes. “About littles and stuff like that. And I am not into like …sexual stuff while wearing diapers or something.”

Peter chuckled and stroked Stiles neck, making the boys back arch a bit. 

“Believe it or not, but I don’t actually want to fuck a kid, Stiles.”

Relieved the boy nodded.

“Okay, then show me.”

Peter rolled his eyes, gently pushing Stiles from his lap, while the boy scrambled to find his bearings. 

“Always so impatient.”, Peter groused, getting off the bed and pulling off his soiled boxer briefs. With a scrunched up nose, he wiped himself clean(er) with it and beckoned Stiles to follow him. Stiles seemed to contemplate his nudity for a second before apparently decided to just go with it and following Peter out of the bedroom and down the hall. 

“This room would be for you. When you want to … be little. If you want to be, I mean.” 

Stiles grabbed Peters hand and watched as the man produced a key seemingly out of nowhere to open the door. It was not … what Stiles was expecting. He didn’t know what he was expecting, maybe a spare bedroom with a colorful rug or some childish bedsheets. This? This was a dream come true for every childlike aspect of Stiles personality. Letting go of Peters hand without noticing really, Stiles stepped in, wide-eyed and with an open mouth. Peter looked at him with fondness and …was that a hint of insecurity? Fear, maybe?  
Stiles didn’t notice Peters internal struggle, hearing from behind him the soft voice of Peter but not really.

“We- I mean, you! You don’t have to. I can get rid of the stuff and make an office or-“

“Don’t you dare.”

Stiles voice was so quiet it was barely audible, but Peter stopped, looking at how Stiles looked at the room in wonder. The rug was a deep, royal blue. It felt fluffy under his toes and soft. The walls were painted a light shade of yellow, there were pictures of animals, posters of his favorite superheroes. The drapes were dark blue with stars, the bed covered in an avenger blanket and from one of the throw pillows Batman was looking at him. There was a dresser – he had no idea if there was stuff in it – with some plushies on them, superheroes and game characters and there was a trunk full of what looked like toys. There was a bookshelf with kid to young adult books. There was a desk with a collection of pens and crayons and markers and a whole stack of different coloring books. There was a fucking mobile with stars and planets hanging over the bed and a lamp on the nightstand in the form of a rocket. Stiles- Stiles just couldn’t. He felt the tears in his eyes spilling and a second later he found himself engulfed in Peters arms and helplessly sobbing.

“Shhh, darling. I am sorry, I can put it away, I didn’t mean to pressure or assume-“

“It’s for me?”

Peter looked at Stiles and saw the overwhelmed smile on the boys face and couldn’t help but smile back.

“Yeah.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

There was his plush wolf on the bed. It had a little bow around its neck.

“It’s perfect, daddy.”

“Everything for you, my sweet boy.”

As soon as Stiles calmed down he was off like a rocket. Peter watched – a bit helplessly – how Stiles turned the trunk full of toys upside down, pretty much burying himself in plastic and wood. With a soft shake of his head, he turned back to the bedroom, grabbing his sweatpants and putting them on, before going back to Stiles. The boy was still sitting naked on the floor, inspecting the toys littered around him, barely taking notice of him.

“Stiles?”

No answer. 

“Pup?”, Peter sighed, stepping closer and putting a hand on Stiles shoulder. The boy turned his head so fast it had to be spinning but any kind of worry Peter had harbored, since he started ordering things and putting this room together flew out of the window, as soon as he saw the blinding wide smile the boy sported.

“This is so awesome, you’re the best!”

Chuckling Peter ruffled Stiles hair, before stepping closer to the dresser. 

“If you want, there are some … clothes for you in there. Have a look?”

Stiles grinned, standing up and wincing slightly, when he found a piece of lego stuck to his thigh, but strutted closer as fast as he could.

“Gimmegimmegimme!”

Peter couldn’t help but laugh, utterly delighted at his boy, almost vibrating with excitement. Without much flourish, he pulled open the first drawer, showing an array of colorful shirts and pants and pajama sets. Most of them had some form of print or pattern on them, of course, some flannel and smiling he looked at the wonder in Stiles eyes. 

“Underwear and socks are in the bottom drawers. I was thinking about maybe getting a onesie, but I didn’t know what you’d thi-“

“A onesie?!”

The screech was unholy and with a wince, Peter closed his eyes for a second to gather himself. Stiles grinned up at him apologetically, still bopping up and down. He had a set with a little wolf on them and smiling Peter nodded. 

“What kind? Can I choose my own underwear?”

Without waiting for an answer Stiles had already pulled open the bottom drawer, squealing when he saw the colorful fuzzy socks and the print heavy briefs.

“Yes, you can choose yourself, pup. I wasn’t sure, would that be something you would want to take a look at with me?”

Stiles nodded, looking a bit like a bobblehead while grabbing grey fuzzy socks with rainbow-colored polka dots and a pair of briefs with little lightsabers on them. 

“I love them!” 

Peter smiled.

“Want me to help you get dressed?”

Stiles shook his head, clutching the clothes against his chest and slowly stepping backward, until the back of his knees met the edge of the bed and he let himself fall down on it. 

“I am a big boy, I can do it myself!”, Stiles argued, still grinning like a loon and already starting to pull on the socks, tongue peeking out. 

“Alright, pup. I’ll wait for you in the living room and we can look at some more things you would enjoy. Sound good?”

“Yes, daddy!”

He kept lifting his foot higher and higher to get the toes just right – and toppled over backward, giggling quietly. Peter trying to keep it together made his way to the living room, his senses still focused on the boy. He felt warm. He felt happy and content and accomplished. Every piece of him was satisfied with making his boy happy, providing and protecting. And how fast Stiles switched. Chuckling softly, he sat down on his couch, grabbing the laptop and pulling up the site he had found the adult onesies (or jumpsuits, if one wanted to be boring) on, starting to bookmark some things. It only took a few minutes, before Peter heard the soft tapping sounds of Stiles feet on his hardwood floors, but apparently the boy was trying to sneak up on him – and who was he to refuse his boy some fun. 

“Raaaawr!!”

Something soft pressed against his shoulder and a gaze out of the corner of his eye told him it was the plush wolf he had gotten Stiles when he had actually been a little boy.

“Oh no! Darling, I am being attacked by a rabid wolf! Help me!!”

Carefully maneuvering the laptop out of the way of the impending chaos, Peter let himself fall back on the couch and only seconds later had a giggling Stiles straddling him, holding the plush wolf close. 

“Don’t be silly, daddy! He just wants to play!”

With fake relief, Peter looked at Stiles – and shot a wary gaze towards the stuffed animal, before slowly sitting up and positioning his boy a bit more comfortable on his lap.

“Well. If you say so.”, he drawled, while continuing shooting Stiles companion a dirty look. “Just make sure you feed him enough, alright?”

Stiles laughed, nodded and snuggled closer to Peter, before pointing to the laptop.

“Show me?”

Peter grinned, grabbed the laptop and put it so that both of them had a good view of the screen and he could still use the mousepad. 

“I found this website a few weeks ago when I was looking for some stuff for an actual four years old you. Want to have a look?”

Stiles nodded, shoving his wolf against Peter and starting to browse. Everything Stiles lingered on, Peter made a mental note of and after about an hour there was a reasonable amount of things in the cart. 

“I need to pee. And I don’t need a step!”

“Still need to wash your hands though.”, Peter remarked, huffing a laugh at Stiles sticking his tongue out at him. 

“Fiiiiine.”

Peter chuckled, listening until Stiles was in the bathroom and adding the other things he had made notes of. The total wasn’t half as high as Peter had assumed and without hesitation, he clicked the few buttons to buy it and have it shipped to his apartment with next day delivery. 

“Daddy?”

“Yes, pup?”

“You don’t have frog soap.”

Peter sighed and got up to make sure Stiles did wash his hands with the regular soap – and he did, after some cajoling of Peter and with the promise of a movie before going to sleep. 

“So, what do you want to watch?”

“Dunno.”, Stiles mumbled, biting on the sleeve of his pajama top. “Something fun!”

Peter looked at him, then to the tv.

“Adult-fun or little-fun?”

Stiles contemplated for a moment. 

“Little-fun!”

Peter nodded, grabbed the remote and pulled up the streaming service. 

“I wanna watch The Emperors New Groove!”

Thankfully the movie was on the list – Peter wasn’t keen on finding out if little Stiles in an adult body was prone to throwing tantrums or tears. Starting the movie, he sat down on the couch, letting Stiles get comfortable in his arms and putting the blanket over them.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, pup?”

“I really like my room.”, he hedged and Peter felt himself starting to worry.

“But?”

“No, but! …Just wanna sleep with you tonight.” 

He barely heard Stiles’ mumble against the fabric of the blanket, the boy had hidden his face against Peters chest. Relieved Peter nodded.

“Of course. There’s enough room.”

Smiling shyly up at him, Stile snuffled and curled up closer to Peter. The wolf put his arms around his boy, not really focusing on the movie playing and more on the giggling and comments of Stiles.

It only took about forty minutes for Stiles to fall asleep, but Peter stayed with him on the couch, to comfortable to really move. Stiles was a pleasant weight on him, his soft breathing gusting over Peters neck and with a content sigh, he closed his eyes for a moment. It happened fast, today. While they were busy with the more frisky side of their relationship, Stiles may have called him daddy, but he wasn’t little. And afterward, Stiles seemed to immediately slide into his little headspace. He wondered if he’d feel awkward when he’d wake up. Peter had no problem with comforting his boy, assuring him that it was okay, perfect even and while not necessarily “normal”, definitely nothing bad. That Peter loved him, exactly the way he was, big and little and always snarky. Smiling Peter caressed Stiles back before gently sitting up and maneuvering Stiles in his arms in a way that would allow him to carry him to bed.  
Stiles only snuffled slightly, clinging to Peter in his sleep and smiling. Peter couldn’t remember a time he had felt that happy. So needed and accepted. Putting Stiles in bed and laying down next to him, the boy woke for a second. 

“Peter?”

“Mhm?”

“’ love you.”

Peter couldn’t stop his grin, even if he wanted to.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That's it. Everything is done.  
> Hope you enjoyed the ride :)

When Stiles woke up there were a few rays of sunlight illuminating the room. He felt the strong arm of Peter around his mid and the soft, calm breathing that told him that his wolf was still asleep, snuggled close against his back.   
Stiles felt … good. He still felt a bit insecure, but … thinking back to last night, he couldn’t bring himself to feel anything but content and …welcome. Finally arriving at a point in his life where he could just be. When Peter had told him about the room, he was curious, but never in his life would have thought the man had gotten a kids' room for him ready. At first, he had to admit, he was a bit confused, but when he had finally started taking in all the details, the toys and the thoughtful little things Peter had gotten for him – just him! – he had felt overjoyed and overwhelmed. Peter had seemed so worried, had looked like he was expecting Stiles to just up and go. Stiles had then and there decided that he would give in to his curiosity, his needs and wants. All the toys and the stuffed animals and the drawer full of fun clothes. It was definitely nothing he would wear right now, feeling like the actual adult he was, but in his …what had that one site on the internet called it? Headspace? Yeah, when he was in his more little headspace, he would love them. Sighing contently, Stiles loosely circled Peters wrist with his fingers. He couldn’t believe the man would go to such length to make him happy – and seeing how Peters face had lit up when Stiles actually showed and told that he liked it? Stiles wanted to see it again – and when he felt little, as disorienting as it could feel, it was definitely no hardship to enjoy all the toys.   
A rumble behind him let Stiles chuckle and turning his head slightly, he had to suppress an outright laugh. The only thing he could see were tufts of hair sticking out of the blanket nest. 

“Morning, Peter.”

Peter grumbled, pulling him closer again. 

“’s too early.”

“Want me to make breakfast, sleepyhead?”

Peter murmured something, before slowly poking his head out. 

“’ can do it. You hungry, pup?”

“Not yet.”

Stretching slightly, Stiles caught sight of his pajamas and with a light blush on his cheeks, he turned around and leaned down to Peter. With a smile he pressed a kiss on Peters lips, caressing the man's cheek.

“Thank you.”

Peter looked adorably confused for a moment and quietly laughing Stiles nuzzled his face. 

“What for?”

“Taking care of me. Being here. The room. Everything.” 

Peter smiled, sneaked a hand on Stiles neck and pulled him into another closed-mouthed kiss. 

“Nothing to thank me for, Stiles.”

God, Stiles felt almost giddy with happiness. 

“How about you sleep a bit longer, I change clothes and make us some breakfast?”

“You don’t have to-“

“I want to, Peter. I am not always … little. And you can take care of me when I want and need it, but I promise I am able to manage breakfast.”

“Smartass.”, Peter huffed, stretching slightly. “How are you feeling?”

Stiles shrugged, smiling.

“Good. I guess there is some finetuning for our communication in this certain aspect needed, but … I am good. I am in.” 

Peters smile was fond and soft and so utterly sappy, Stiles was taking a mental snapshot. He was kind of sad he didn’t have his phone right here with him to take an actual picture, but … maybe this was one of these moments, that was better as a simple memory.

“Good. If anything about that changes-“

“I’ll tell you. Promise.”

“Alright.”, Peter mumbled, groaning and looking at the clock on his nightstand. The reddish numbers showed him that it was just after nine in the morning and with an even louder groan, he flopped back on the bed. “Are you seriously a morning person, Stiles?”  
The boy chuckled and got up.

“Not really, but if someone takes good care of me, tires me out and takes me to bed, it seems I can be.”

With a wink he left the room, leaving Peter behind in bed, smiling softly to himself and wondering how the fuck he had gotten so lucky. 

The next weeks passed in heartbeat. Looking back Stiles couldn’t really tell how things could change that much and that fast – but for the first time in months, he felt truly, completely happy. His father hadn’t let it taken from him to humiliate Stiles with a safe-sex talk about gay sex – and he really, really never wanted to know, how his father knew so much about the homosexual way of fucking. The details about finding the prostate were one thing – the details about what to pay attention to when GIVING a blowjob (including a few “tricks”) were another. Shaking his head, Stiles let his gaze wander around the room. 

“Peter?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Are you sure, we’ve got everything?”

Stiles heard a sigh and a moment later Peter entered the front of the store, a long-suffering smile on his face. 

“Darling, you made the list. Three times. Not counting the spreadsheets, the PowerPoint and the google doc you kept updating. I looked over it. Lydia, Derek, hell, even Deaton have looked it over.”, Peter stepped closer, bracketing Stiles between his arms against the wall. “You’ve got everything. Everything is ready. Maybe a few more trinkets that will trickle in over time and this shop is absolute perfection.”

The soft kiss Peter pressed on Stiles lip didn’t hinder him in his pout and leaning his forehead against Peters chest, he closed his eyes.

“I know, I know. I am an insufferable, anxiety-riddled asshat and you’re a saint for being so fucking patient with me.”

Chuckling Peter put his arms around his boyfriend – at least until they found a better term for their relationship – and pressed another kiss on the crown of Stiles head.

“You’re not insufferable and I am not a saint.”, Peter mumbled. “You’re doing a great thing and it’s stressful. It’s okay to be anxious. Later I will draw you a bath, give you a nice, long massage and make sure you’re relaxed before the big day tomorrow, alright?”

“You’re literally the best.”

Peter chuckled, putting a finger under Stiles chin and gently lifting his head. Stiles smiled crookedly and sighed. 

“I am really not.”

“For me you are.”

“Sap.”

“Takes one to know one.”

Rolling his eyes, Peter slapped Stiles butt before retreating back to the storage room. In the last weeks, they had worked hard, finding the different ingredients and magic objects, books and old scrolls. Everything a magic-shop needed. Well, almost everything. Shaking his head, Peter put the last boxes on the shelf before cleaning his hands on a rag and stepping back in the salesroom. Stiles was still fiddling with some papers, brooding over a book and contemplating a few of his contacts about regular shipments. He would have to see how well his little project was going to do. 

“You ready?”

Stiles looked up, the crease between his brows smoothing out and with a smile, he nodded. 

“Yeah. Won’t get anything else done today.”, he murmured. “Everything is done. Ready for the masses to raid it, starting tomorrow.”

“It will only be the pack, your father and some of your contacts. No need to stress out, darling.”

“I know. Still.”

“Come on.”

The way back to their apartment – and it still gave Stiles a thrill to call it theirs – was quite short and humming Stiles fiddled with the radio until Peter slapped his hand with a warning rumble. Coyly Stiles looked up through his lashes, pouting and with a groan, Peter focused back on the road. Only when they drove past the apartment block they lived in, Stiles got confused. 

“Uhm. Peter?”

“Yes, pup?”

“I thought we’re going home?”

“Not yet.”

Stiles turned around in his seat, staring at the side of Peters face, silently demanding an answer. Peter grinned, shot Stiles a look from the corner of his eye and chuckled. 

“Tell me.”

“It’s a surprise.”

“I don’t like surprises.”

“Lie.”

“Fine. I do like surprises. I still want to know.”

“I don’t think so.”

While Stiles kept needling Peter with questions, the wolf kept driving until they left the Beacon Hills Sign behind and Stiles started to get nervous.

“Finally annoyed enough to off me somewhere in the woods and hide my body?”

Peter shook his head and shot the boy a look.

“No, stupid. The surprise is two towns over and it would still be too early for dinner anyway.”

“So we’re going to get dinner?”

Peter groaned.

“Do you listen to me, when I speak?”

Stiles shook his head grinning broadly. 

“Nope. I am just focused on your pretty face, watching your mouth move.”

“I knew it. You’re only with me for my good looks and money.”

“And your dick.”

“And my dick, of course.”

Snorting Peter turned left, making Stiles squeak and scramble to sit properly on his seat, shooting Peter a dirty look.

“Seats point in a certain direction for a reason, sweetheart.”  
“Haha.” 

The ride took only about half an hour, but Stiles was getting antsier with every minute. He had no idea what the fuck Peter was planning, especially two towns over. When they pulled in an undistinctive looking suburban neighborhood, Stiles was vibrating on his seat.

“Tell me! Tell me! Tell me!”

“Just a few minutes more, Stiles. Contain your excitement, or I am turning the car around.”

“Boo!”

Peter pulled in a parking spot before throttling the motor and stretching, seemingly having any time in the world. Stiles was going to strangle him. 

“What are we doing here?!”

Peter simply grinned, opened the door and got out of the car, Stiles fumbling around to come after him. His heart was beating fast and his excitement had sunk a bit when they had parked in such a regular looking place, but Peter was still looking like a cat that got the cream. 

“Come on, darling. We’re being expected.”

“Doesn’t sound ominous at all.”, Stiles grumbled, before grabbing Peters hand and following him to an unsuspecting looking door. The house looked nice enough, but not like anything special and for a second he wondered if Peter had bought it – but that was stupid. They both loved their apartment and this house would be too far away from work and the preserve and the rest of the pack. While Stiles kept thinking in circles, Peter rang the doorbell. It took a minute before an elderly looking woman opened and greeted them with obvious excitement.

“Peter! Darling, how lovely!”

Stiles eyebrows rose to his hairline when the little lady grabbed Peters face and kissed him on the cheek.

“And you must be the young rascal keeping him on his toes, aren’t you? Stiles, right?”   
And before Stiles could say anything he was pulled in a bone-crushing hug and what the fuck?! This lady was strong as hell and with a garbled “Good evening” he was finally released. Peter laughed at him and shook his head slightly, before grabbing Stiles hand again and looking at the woman. 

“This is Elisabeth. She has your surprise for yo-“

“It’s Lizzy, Peter. How often do I have to tell you! I don’t pay that much money to look like an old coot called Elisabeth!” 

Laughing Stiles let himself be pulled into the house by Peter, his eyes flitting around, still trying to figure out what the fuck they were doing here. Peter was obviously amused by Stiles confusion but he took mercy and leaned down.

“Lizzy is an old family friend.”

Stiles still understood absolutely nothing and decided to just go with it, they followed the chattering lady into another room. The hallway was small, the ceiling low and the walls cluttered with family pictures. Overall the house was a lot smaller than it seemed or maybe it just was all the little trinkets and decorations around that made it seem so cramped. 

“There they are! Come take a look!”

Stiles looked at Peter, who just smiled and gave him a slight push. Stiles entered the room and wondered for a second what he was looking at. Small, dark, furry, squeaking …potatoes? 

“What-?”

“Peter, tell the boy already, or I do!”, Lizzy chided with a raised finger and a soft smile. Peter just huffed, stepped closer and put his arms around Stiles middle.

“You’re here to choose a familiar.”

“A-“

“A familiar, sweetpea! Isn’t Peter such a considerate darling? I swear if I was single and a few years younger….”

While the woman fanned herself, Stiles turned around to look at Peter – then back at the …those were kittens. Tiny, fluffy, mewling kittens.

“Don’t you worry your little head, they’re 10 weeks old, even if they still look a bit small. Go ahead!”

Too overwhelmed to really react, Stiles stepped over the playpen for children, that had been set up to keep the kittens in one place – even though it obviously didn’t work all the time. Just as Stiles stepped foot inside the little make shit prison, momma cat jumped over the fence, dropping a wayward baby to his feet, looking him up and down, snorting softly, and flopping down back on the floor. Stiles slowly went into a crouch, looking at the little animals.

“Oh my god.”

He heard Peter chuckle behind him and shot him a look, but Peter had such a fond smile on his face, that Stiles couldn’t really be mad. Or anything, really. With a helpless smile as an answer, he stroked one of the kittens back, hearing a soft purr and …fuck, he felt like he was melting.

“But, how-“

Lizzy, for her age surprisingly energized, bobbed up and down. 

“No problem, sweetpea. Just cuddle or play a bit with them. If the right one is in there with you, you’ll feel the connection.”

Stiles nodded, transfixed in watching one of the kittens cleaning it’s face – clumsily, still, but adorable – and sat down on the floor. It only took a moment before one of the kittens stumbled towards him, sniffed at his outstretched hand and gave a piercing little shriek that had Peter wince. Chuckling Stiles caressed its head and a jolt of energy and warmth rushed through his body. 

“Fuck.”

“That’s the one, hm? Would have guessed so, she’s a little troublemaker!”, Lizzy mumbled pleased. 

“And she’s … loud.”

The kitten shrieked again, making Stiles full-on laugh and with a self-satisfied look in her eyes she climbed on Stiles lap, almost falling over if Stiles had not caught her. 

“This one. I felt…”

Peter nodded softly, coming closer and looking at the fuzzy potato currently gnawing on his boyfriend's finger. She just shot Peter a curious look, before leaving Stiles fingers alone and kneading the fabric of his hoodie in an acceptable little bed. 

“I have to admit, she’s … adorable.”

“We’re taking her. We are, aren’t we?”

The pleading look on Stiles face made Peter huff a laugh, before pressing a kiss to his lips. 

“Of course, pup. I already got all the things we need as cat-parents in the trunk.”

Stiles gasped, pointing an accusing finger at Peter.

“You sneak! You sneaky, sneaking sneak! How long have you planned this?”

While Stiles kept caressing the kitten on his lap, Peter told Stiles how he had called Lizzy up, asking if there was a litter. There hadn’t been one then, but a few weeks ago she had called back, telling him all about Mona's little babies. And Peter, wanting the best for Stiles and his magic – had immediately agreed to meet up, when the kittens were old enough. 

“You once told the pack that you always had wanted a cat anyway, but that your dad was allergic.”

“You remember that?”, Stiles asked breathless and awed. With a soft meep, he leaned upwards, kissing Peter and closing his eyes – ignoring the pulling on one of the hoodie strings, that the cat currently was playing with. 

“Do you even like cats?”

Peter nodded slowly. 

“I don’t have a problem with them. And I have to admit she’s adorable.”

Stiles grinned. 

“Isn’t she? I’ll call her… Fuck, what do I call her?”

Peter chuckled. 

“That’s something you have to decide on your own. Well, together with her, I guess.”

Lizzy was serving up tea and leaving Stiles to cuddle a bit more with his brand new familiar, he sat down on one of the armchairs. After a while, Stiles joined them, little kitten in the front pouch of his hoodie and loudly purring.

“How does it work, Lizzy?”, Stiles finally asked. “Just taking her home with me and bonding doesn’t make her my familiar, right?”

Lizzy shook her head, taking a sip from her tea and observing him. 

“When you two have appropriately bonded, you’ll feel it. And then she will show you in a way how to do the ritual to fully bind you.”

“Shell show me?”, Stiles asked, confusion clear on his face and even Peter looked intrigued.

“Show you. With a dream or by marking a page in a book, things like that. It’s different for everybody.”

They talked a bit more, but after a while the little kitten got cranky, demanding attention and Peter called it a sign to go home and get her settled. Stiles agreed and with a promise to Lizzy to call and visit and send pictures over mail, they left, Peter pulling a small carrier out of the back and helping Stiles get the squirming kitten in. 

“She’s a troublemaker.”

“And loud.”

“And adorable. Just like you.”

Stiles stuck his tongue out at him, a light blush on his face. Finally seated in the car, Peter bent over and captured Stiles in a breathtaking kiss. 

“You like your surprise, darling?”

“I love it.”, Stiles breathed, his eyes suspiciously wet and with a soft huff he started playing with the kitten through the bars of the carrier.

“I think I am going to call her Felicja. It’s polish and means happy. And good luck.” 

The kitten gave a soft, satisfied meow, not the ear-piercing shriek from earlier and Peter smiled. 

“Sounds like a plan.”

“We could call her Feli for short.”

Peter nodded, grabbing Stiles free hand and squeezing it softly. 

“Peter?”

“Mhm?”

“Thank you. For everything. I can’t”, Stiles stopped, sniffling slightly and with a fond smile, Peter could pretty much feel how close his heart was to bursting. “You just took everything in stride. Took me like I am. You made me feel loved and good the way I am and you … You make me so fucking happy, Peter. I can’t remember the last time I felt so happy.”

Peter exhaled heavily, gathering his thoughts, before answering.

“That was the plan. Seeing you happy just… It’s everything.”

His voice was quiet and with a soft sigh, Stiles leaned his head against Peters shoulder.

“Fuck. We’re a badass, resurrected werewolf and a fucking mage. How can we be so fucking sappy?”

Peter laughed, pressing a kiss to Stiles temple before taking a deep breath and starting the car.

“No idea. We are just lucky that no one will believe it if they find out.”

“True.”

The opening of Stiles’ store was a blast and Peter stood by, proud as punch, watching how Stiles talked and helped customers, the tiny black kitten only slightly peeking out of the hood of his boys hoodie. Stiles had told him more than once, that the only reason he had gotten that far, was because he had Peter. And Peter? Well, he might be an arrogant asshole sometimes, but praise, where praise is due. The most important thing though? Stiles was happy. And he was happy too.


End file.
